


True Love's Curse

by Ellie603



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (or something like that), F/M, Friends to Lovers, King!Coulson, Knight!Lance, Knight!Mack, Lady-in-Waiting!Bobbi, Nobility!Jemma, Prince!Fitz, Princess!Daisy, Slow Burn, coming of age au, evil sorcerer, fairytale AU, fitzsimmons is actually cursed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 82,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5317847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie603/pseuds/Ellie603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Son of King Phillip Coulson, Prince Leopold (called Fitz, his middle name, after a knight that died trying to save his life), was cursed as an infant by a sorcerer bearing the name of Death by Punishment. The curse: though Fitz will be brilliant and successful, at true love's kiss, he will be forgotten by his family and friends, and the one he loves will despise him. The only known way to break the spell is to kill the sorcerer, but this task is proving difficult for the king and his cavalry. As they grow up, Fitz and his best friend Jemma Simmons, daughter of a knight and a noblewoman, are inseparable, but perhaps there is more to their relationship than either one realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> So this all comes out of Fitz's whole "we're cursed" thing from 3x08 because I figured that warranted a story where Fitz is _actually_ cursed. This first part is a bit Sleeping Beauty, but after that it goes a bit away from traditional fairytale lore.
> 
> I am so insanely excited about this AU. It's going to be a pretty slow burn, but we'll get a lot more characters and all sorts of vaguely Medieval background in the next few chapters. In terms of titles and terminology for this chapter and the rest of the story, it's all fairly accurate to Medieval/Early Modern Britain, but there's definitely some pulling things from different time periods which I'm justifying by saying this is a fairytale so it doesn't have to be perfectly historically accurate. I'm hoping to get the first real chapter up before exams in two weeks, but after that I should have almost a month of relative freedom (just in time for the hiatus) so I can get a lot of work done on this then.
> 
> I really really hope you guys like it!!! Enjoy!

A hooded figure stared down at a baby in its cradle, a long thin finger reaching out to stroke its tiny cheek. 

The child whimpered. 

“Don’t touch him!” The words ripped out of a richly-clothed man standing horrified across the room, the candlelight reflecting off the jewels in his crown. A brown-haired woman stood beside him, her crown smaller, but the fear in her eyes the same. 

The figure moved its head back as though laughing uproariously, but the only sound that issued from the dark space under its hood was a cross between cracking tree branches and nails along a blackboard. 

The congregation on the opposite side of the hall gave a shudder at the noise, shrinking away from the figure even more than they already had been. 

“Oh, Your Majesty,” the figure finally spoke in a voice as harsh and gravelly as the coarse sand that swirled menacingly at his feet, “Phillip Coulson, if I wanted your child dead right now, he would be already, I assure you.” The sorcerer turned back to the baby. “No, I need him to live… for now.” He looked up at Coulson again. “You know my name, I trust.” 

The king nodded slowly. “Maveth,” he said, his voice small, but resolute. 

“Good,” the sorcerer said, sounding as though he was grinning underneath his hood. “And the meaning?”

The king faltered at this, reaching down to clutch his wife’s hand . 

“Oh, come, come, Coulson,” the figure said, with a cruel warmth that caused the queen to turn her face away. He stretched his arms out in some twisted mockery of welcoming. “You know the answer.” 

“Death by punishment,” Coulson said finally, his eyes locked on the floor. 

“Precisely,” Maveth replied, turning back to the cradle. “Death by punishment. That’s why I have so rudely interrupted this special day. I don’t wish for your precious child to die right now; I need him for the future. But there can always be punishment.” 

“He’s only a baby!” The queen spoke for the first time. 

The sorcerer looked up as though surprised. “Now, Audrey. Let’s not be too hasty. You don’t know what this boy becomes. I can see everything. This boy is to be both my savior and my downfall. And for you? Suffering. Only suffering.” 

The crowd began to move as a man shoved his way to the front. 

“Get out of here, you monster!” Without even his helmet, a young knight unsheathed his sword and swung it out in front of him, not quite in control. 

“Eoin, no!” A woman’s voice called from the crowd, distracting him, but the knight shook his head and turned back to stare at the sorcerer, his face set. 

“Someone has to defend the prince.” 

Maveth watched the action in the crowd with polite interest, but after the man turned back to face him, the sorcerer laughed that same unnerving sound from before. 

“Oh, Sir Eoin Fitz, is it?” Maveth greeted the knight. “The youngest of Coulson’s cavalry. You’re barely more than a boy, and you think you can hurt me? Silly lad.” 

As the sorcerer turned away from him, Eoin launched forward, his sword thrust out ahead of him. 

Maveth whirled around and the sand swirling at his feet instantly picked up, the wind turning into a swirling vortex that surrounded the sorcerer and the young knight. 

Blinded by the sand, the crowd and the royal family shielded their faces from the gale. 

After a moment, the sand settled, and Maveth reappeared next to the cradle, young Eoin Fitz nowhere in sight. 

“That’s better.” Maveth turned back to the baby. “Now, as I was saying-” 

“Where is the boy?” Coulson interrupted with a glance to the crowd that was looking all around for any sign of the young knight. Eoin’s mother and his wife stood at the edge of the mass of people. The younger woman looked confused, but the older woman seemed to already understand what had happened. 

Eoin’s mother had been one of Coulson’s mother’s ladies in waiting many years before, and she had married one of Coulson’s father’s finest knights. Together, they had had six children, of which Eoin was the youngest. Eoin’s wife was the daughter of a lesser nobleman from a village across the kingdom. They had not been married six months. 

Maveth just laughed. “That was a lesson to you all. This is what will happen if you try to oppose me.” 

A wail went up from the crowd. Eoin’s wife had collapsed onto the ground, Eoin’s mother trying to quiet her even as tears slid down her cheeks. 

“Yes, how tragic,” said Maveth callously. “But your knight is meaningless. I’m here for the baby.” He turned back to the child. “As I said, I can’t kill him yet. I need him for the future. He will be brilliant, one of the most brilliant minds the kingdom has ever seen, and it will be my salvation. But that brilliance, if left unchecked, will spell disaster. So I offer a gift, if you will. That’s what one gives a baby at a christening, is it not?” He reached down to take the child in his arms. 

The baby began to scream, its cries competing with those of young Lady Fitz. 

“My dear prince,” Maveth cooed, his cracked voice somehow cutting through the cacophony around him. “Always when a spell is cast on an infant there is a caveat with ‘true love’s kiss,’ so I plan to use that to my advantage. Here is my gift to you, intelligent child: you will work so hard and accomplish so much, but at true love’s kiss, it will all be lost. You will remember your friends, but they will not remember you. You will know your parents, but they will see you as a stranger. And the one you love beyond anything: she will forget you except to hate you. You will become nothing. And you will have your death by punishment.” 

“No.” Audrey’s voice was hushed with disbelief as she shook her head. “You can’t! Take it back!” 

Maveth laughed and laid the baby back in his cradle. “It was so lovely to see you all. Coulson, Audrey.” He nodded at them and then turned toward the crowd. “And I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Dame Isobel, Lady Fitz.” 

With a crack of thunder, the wind picked up, the sand swirled around him, and, in an instant, he was gone. 

The entire hall was in an uproar. Mothers clung to their children. Young knights hurried to help both Fitz women where they sobbed on the ground in each other’s arms. Coulson and Audrey rushed toward their baby. 

Audrey picked him up, clutching him to herself and whispering to him soothingly. 

“We have to keep him safe,” Audrey said to her husband, unable to stop herself from crying. 

“We will, darling,” Coulson replied reassuringly, though his hand shook as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I promise you, we will.” 

He took Audrey’s free hand and led her over to the women weeping on the ground. 

“I’m so sorry Isobel, Margaret,” Coulson said to the women, his head hanging down, ashamed. “I should have… I should have done something.” 

The older woman smiled sadly at him and shook her head. “Your Majesty, please don’t apologize,” she said, her words full of emotion. “There is nothing you could have done. Maveth is merciless. But perhaps there is a way to save your child.” 

Coulson looked up at her words. 

The woman continued. “If Maveth is killed, the curse will be broken, and all will be well, but, even if he is not, Maveth made one crucial error. He used true love as a joke, as a way to make a mockery of an emotion he does not understand. Maveth does not know the power of true love. If it is strong enough, that love may yet break the curse.” 

Coulson nodded, his eyes both serious and skeptical. “We will do everything we can to kill Maveth. He will suffer for what he has done to you and to us.” He turned back to the child, now quiet in his wife’s arms. “But, for now, we will have to watch my son very closely. Even with this power you speak of, there is no guarantee that the curse will be broken. If we cannot kill Maveth, then we must prevent this kiss from taking place.” 

Audrey sniffled behind Coulson as she knelt down beside Margaret who was still sobbing. Another woman, very obviously with child, held her as she cried, a knight behind them, concern and horror etched in his face. 

“I’m her older sister, Your Majesty, Agnes Simmons,” the other woman explained. “Sir Eoin and Sir John were on patrol in our part of the kingdom when we met them.” She nodded back to her husband, the knight standing with them who looked several years older than Eoin. “John and I fell in love, but Margaret and Eoin couldn’t stand each other. And then at our wedding, Eoin told Maggie he was mad for her, and she said the same, and that was that.” Lady Simmons gave Audrey a sad smile. 

Margaret let out a sob. “Eoin.” 

Agnes held her closer.

“Margaret,” Audrey said kindly.

The woman looked up from her sister’s shoulder. 

Audrey smiled at her softly. “I’m so sorry, Margaret. Your husband was such a brave man, and he deserved better.” She glanced up at her husband who nodded at her. Then she turned back to the grief-stricken woman. “We’d like to tell you what we’ve decided to name our son. He is called first after Phillip’s grandfather, Leopold. But his full name will be Leopold Fitz Coulson, Prince of all the Kingdom. Your husband’s sacrifice will not be forgotten, and Maveth will pay for what he has done. I will not let him take my son away from me.” She stared wistfully down at the baby in her arms as a tear dripped down her cheek. “My Leopold Fitz.”


	2. Growing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be done like 2 weeks ago, but this semester was killer. But I'm finally free so this is actually going to be updated at least once a week for the next month at least.
> 
> Now we get to meet our knights and ladies and squires and, of course, Fitz and Simmons - brilliant, curious, and the bane of their governess's existence.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Prince Leopold!” 

A young curly-haired boy let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s ‘Fitz,’ Lady Hand. How many times do I have to tell you? _Jemma_ always gets it right.” 

“Well, Miss Simmons has been reared rather wildly,” replied Lady Victoria Hand, governess to a seven-year-old Prince Leopold Fitz Coulson and his possibly even more rambunctious best friend Jemma Simmons, “much like yourself Prince… Fitz.” She finally acquiesced to the young prince’s insistence on being called by his middle name. 

“Wildly?” piped up a small voice from behind a tapestry. A tony freckled face peeked out, its nose wrinkling. “I have not been ‘reared rather wildly!” Jemma Simmons cried indignantly. 

Fitz nodded his head in agreement as Lady Hand started to reply. 

“Well I never-” 

“I think Jemma’s been raised perfectly adequately,” an older voice came loudly from behind the group, interrupting Lady Hand’s retort. “Fitz has as well.” 

“Dame Isobel.” Lady Hand nodded at the older woman in greeting. 

“Lady Hand,” Dame Isobel Fitz replied with a nod of her own. “I was wondering if I could borrow these two hooligans for tea.” 

Fitz and Jemma grinned at the description of them as hooligans. 

Lady Hand sighed and waved her assent. “They’re your problem now, Dame Isobel.” She looked down at the children. “Behave yourselves, and I’ll see you after tea, hopefully being better behaved than you’ve been this afternoon,” she added pointedly and then swept off down the hall. 

Jemma stepped fully out from behind the tapestry, a smile on her face as she stared up at Dame Isobel. “I was sure Lady Hand was going to yell at us for the rest of the afternoon. Thanks for saving us, Dame Isobel.” 

“Anything for my favorite rabble-rousers,” Dame Isobel replied jovially. “The palace would be so boring without you two. Now come along! Sir Alphonso and Lady Mackenzie are coming for tea as well.” 

Jemma’s grin widened at Dame Isobel’s words. Lady Mackenzie was her mother’s sister, and Jemma relished any time she was able to spend with her aunt and uncle.

The trio made their way back to Dame Isobel’s quarters, Jemma and Fitz skipping around the older woman’s feet. 

“Auntie!” Jemma cried as they arrived at the door, a burly, but kind-eyed knight and a slight and rather pale woman waiting for them. 

Jemma’s exclamation brought a smile to the pale woman’s face as she picked up her niece. “How are you, my darling?” she asked softly.

“Wonderful!” Jemma replied, wriggling around with excitement. “Fitz and I have been exploring!” 

Fitz’s name caused the woman’s smile to falter slightly before it returned, full-force. Jemma appeared not to notice, but Fitz did. 

Dame Isobel had told him a few years ago that while his first name came from his grandfather, his middle name came from a knight that had given his life protecting him as a baby. That knight had been Lady Mackenzie’s first husband and Dame Isobel’s son. As soon as he had heard the story, Fitz had decided that he wanted to be called by his middle name rather than his first one, which he had never particularly liked anyway, and so he had ceased to be Prince Leopold and had become instead just Fitz, at least to Dame Isobel and he and Jemma’s other friends in the castle. 

“And how are you today, Your Highness?” Sir Alphonso bowed slightly to Fitz with a wink to let him know that the formality was just for show. 

“Quite well, Sir Alphonso,” Fitz replied in his best imitation of his father. “And how was the campaign?” 

The older man’s face fell slightly. “Not quite as successful as we had hoped, but perhaps we are making progress.” 

Jemma sighed dramatically as her aunt set her back onto the floor. “I wish you’d tell us what you and the rest of the cavalry are doing off all around the kingdom, Uncle.”

Fitz nodded his agreement. “I know my father’s sworn you all to secrecy, but it’s just me and Jemma, Mack; you can tell us.” Fitz had taken to calling the older man “Mack” when he was very young and the nickname had stuck among their closest friends. 

Mack just shook his head, laughing at the children, and turned to Dame Isobel instead. “Thank you so much for having us, Isobel. It’s always so lovely to see you.” He pecked her cheek in greeting. 

Dame Isobel smiled and ushered her guests inside. 

The sitting room was very familiar to Fitz. He and Jemma had practically grown up here, always running away from Lady Hand to go find Dame Isobel or Jemma’s mother or Mack and Lady Mackenzie. 

“So what news from the cavalry, Mack?” Dame Isobel asked as they took their usual seats around the room – Mack and Lady Mackenzie on the sofa, Dame Isobel on the chaise, and Jemma and Fitz perched on the ottoman – as a servant appeared with a pot of tea and a tray piled high with Fitz and Jemma’s favorite cakes and cookies. 

Mack took his cup of tea with a word of thanks to the servant, and then he turned back to Dame Isobel. “Well, our favorite squire is being knighted within the next week.” 

“Lance!” Fitz and Jemma exclaimed at the same time. 

The adults laughed at their exuberance. 

“Yes, indeed,” Mack replied, smiling. “Our Lance Hunter is about to become Sir Lance, Knight of King Coulson’s cavalry.” 

“Maybe Bobbi will agree to marry him now that he’ll be a knight,” Jemma said dreamily. 

“Jemma!” Lady Mackenzie chastised, the smile in her eyes taking away from any reprimand. “Who _Lady Morse_ decides to marry is none of your concern.” 

Jemma shrugged. “Bobbi told me that she was waiting for Lance to ‘grow up.’ If he’s gonna be a knight, that means he’s definitely grown up.” 

“Just because someone’s older doesn’t necessarily mean he’s ‘grown up’ the way Bobbi means, my dear,” Dame Isobel added seriously. 

Lady Mackenzie sighed exasperatedly. “Honestly, Isobel, you’re as bad as the children.” 

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Margaret.” Dame Isobel flashed a quick wink at Fitz and Jemma. 

Fitz grinned before looking thoughtful. “It’ll be weird, Lance being a _knight_ ,” Fitz mused. 

“Really!” Jemma agreed, nodding along. “I can’t remember a time when Lance _wasn’t_ my father’s squire.” 

“That’s because Lance has been a squire since before you were born,” Mack explained. “Your father took on Lance just a couple weeks after Fitz was born, right before your mother had you, Jemma.” 

Fitz smiled over at his friend smugly. “Twenty-three days older than you!” he proclaimed in a sing-song-y voice. It was a common argument between the pair of them, one that had been going on for years.

As a toddler, Fitz had regularly been taken to play with the other palace children, but Fitz and Jemma had taken to each other right away. As the other three-year-olds toddled around and played with toy horses and carriages, Fitz and Jemma would sneak off and explore the castle. They wanted to know everything from the names of the flowers in the garden to the food that the horses ate in the stables to the contents of all the books in the library. After more than a year of trying to get them both to play with the other children, the King and Queen had given up, tired of responding to messages of “Prince Leopold and Jemma Simmons have run off again and we’re not entirely sure where they went this time,” and Coulson had hired a personal governess for Fitz when he had just turned five. Upon hearing he was so be separated from his closest friend and partner in crime, Fitz, only just beginning to go by his middle name, had begged his father to let Lady Hand be Jemma’s governess too. Coulson had smiled and said he didn’t have a problem with it, and from that point on, while the rest of the palace children were taught as a group or with their own governesses, Fitz and Jemma stayed together, much to Lady Hand’s constant exasperation. 

They made friends with the few knights that lived in the castle, like Mack, and heard the news from Jemma’s father’s loose-lipped squire, Lance. Though the other ladies-in-waiting were clearly unwilling to accept responsibility for the excitable children, their favorite, Bobbi, gladly hid them in closets and under furniture and denied any knowledge of their whereabouts when questioned by their, usually irate, governess. Dame Isobel and Lady Mackenzie would often have them around for tea, treating them like adults, rather than young children. They were the darlings of the cavalry, Jemma’s father being high up in its ranks and Fitz being the actual prince. 

Not that Fitz was particularly spoiled by his position. Anyone outside the palace would never had known that he was anything more than the son of a nobleman. His manners were a little more refined than Jemma’s, since he occasionally had to spend an afternoon sitting respectfully at a dinner table while his father entertained a foreign dignitary, but in all other ways he was an ordinary child of the palace. 

The afternoon turned into a light-hearted argument between Fitz and Jemma about whether or not it mattered if Fitz was 23 days older, while Dame Isobel and Lady Mackenzie talked of other matters. 

As the conversation lulled, Mack stepped in. “Fitz, I do have some news from your father.” 

Fitz sat up straighter at Mack’s words, giving the older man his full attention. 

“He wanted me to tell you that he’s sending several tutors to live at the castle for your lessons,” Mack said seriously. “He believes it’s time your education went beyond what Lady Hand can teach you.” 

Fitz began bouncing with excitement, but a glance beside him made him stop. Jemma. He couldn’t abandon his best friend. “But Mack, I don’t want to have any lessons without Jemma!” he said angrily. “She’s just as smart as I am and that’s not fair that I get to learn more than she does just because I’m a boy and I’m the prince. You tell my father that I won’t do it! I- I- I’ll go on strike!” Fitz folded his arms as he sat back on the ottoman with a huff. 

Jemma offered him a small smile. “It’s alright, Fitz. Don’t worry about it. We’ll still see each other.” 

“But it’s not fair!” 

“Enough!” Mack raised his hands to quiet them both, rolling his eyes at Fitz pouting below him. “Your father also told me that since he assumed you would refuse to do anything without Jemma that she’ll be permitted to take all the lessons with you.” 

“Really?” Jemma and Fitz exclaimed together. 

Mack laughed in spite of himself. “Yes, really.” 

“Hooray!” Fitz jumped up and grabbed Jemma’s arm to pull her up with him. 

That day marked a change for Fitz and Jemma. Gone were the days of exploring the castle and running away from Lady Hand; instead, Fitz and Jemma read literature and philosophy and learned history and arithmetic and geometry. But what Fitz and Jemma loved more than anything was science. 

Finally all the questions they had had about the world were being answered. They went down to the river to look at tadpoles, and they took late-night trips to the palace observatory to learn about the stars. They read books and did experiments and absorbed as much information as they could. Their favorite place was the lab in the basement with its shelves of potions and concoctions and tools for building and book cases filled with volumes of text, both old and new, just waiting to be explored. 

Their fellow palace children were growing up as well. Donnie and Seth became pages when they turned seven, and Callie, Jiaying, and Raina received lessons at the palace in preparation for attending finishing school when they turned twelve, in the hopes that they would be able to secure the hand of some wealthy nobleman or other. 

Fitz could see that Jemma sometimes felt out of place still in the palace studying as though she were royalty like Fitz, but Fitz did everything he could to make Jemma feel like she belonged. They deliberately didn’t spend a lot of time with the other children, preferring Mack and Lance and Bobbi’s non-judgmental company to that of anyone else. Fitz didn’t care that Jemma was just the daughter of a knight, and the king and queen didn’t mind either, so what did it matter? But sometimes when she thought he wasn’t looking, Fitz could see that it really did upset his best friend.

  ~~~~****

“It doesn’t matter, Jemma, you know?” Fitz said one night as the pair, now nearing age eleven, was walking back from a lesson at the observatory. Their old astronomy tutor had been forced to return home to take care of his ailing father a few weeks before, and Fitz wasn’t sure how he felt about his replacement. Master Sitwell was very knowledgeable, but he treated Fitz and Jemma very differently. To Fitz he was all praise and bowing and attentive consideration, but to Jemma he was much colder and harsher, staring down at her with an air of superiority. 

On this particular night, he had pointedly asked Jemma about her accomplishments, and when Jemma had begun to explain about the discoveries she and Fitz had made over the past three or four years, Master Sitwell had stopped her and amended his statement with an “oh, no, I meant _womanly_ accomplishments, Miss Simmons: sewing, playing, painting.” Jemma had stared up at him and, without missing a beat, replied that she thought he was meant to teach her and Fitz astronomy not gender roles. Fitz had been forced to leave the room because he had been laughing so hard. 

“Who cares what Master Sitwell says?” Fitz continued when Jemma didn’t respond.

Jemma’s eyes were locked on the ground in front of her. 

“ _I_ don’t care,” Fitz tried again. “And Dame Isobel and Mack don’t care and neither does your aunt or your parents or Lance or Bobbi. _My_ parents don’t even care, and they’re the King and Queen, so that should be enough for anyone. You’re just as smart as I am, Jemma. No one should care whether or not you’re ‘accomplished.’” 

“But that’s just it, Fitz.” Jemma stopped and finally turned to look at him. 

Fitz could see tears in her eyes reflected by the moonlight. 

“As long as you’re around they’ll all let it go, but one day your father’s going to take you on campaign with the cavalry and then it will just be me, unaccomplished, unfinished… alone.” Jemma stared off into the forest. 

Fitz didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought about that before. The idea that he would someday have to leave the lab and his best friend to go take on the duties of a prince was something he had never even considered. Fitz had always been able to keep Jemma with him, but someday they would, more than likely, have to be separated. As much as Fitz tried to pretend, Jemma _wasn’t_ just like him. 

The silence stretched between them.

Jemma sighed finally. “We ought to be getting back. Lance is still in the infirmary after he twisted his ankle tripping over that tree root last week, and I promised I’d visit before I go home… Fitz?” 

Fitz had stopped paying attention to what Jemma was saying, and he had begun to stare at her with a wide smile on his face. 

“What is it, Fitz?” Jemma asked, clearly concerned. 

“The infirmary!” Fitz said excitedly. “That’s it!” 

“What about the infirmary?” 

“You! If you’re trained up as a doctor, no one can fault you for anything!” he exclaimed, bouncing up and down with excitement. “You can still spend all your time in the lab, but if you help out in the infirmary sometimes, it doesn’t matter whether or not you’ve been to finishing school!” 

Jemma stared at him skeptically. “They won’t let me be a doctor, Fitz. I’m a girl.” 

Fitz frowned slightly, shrugging. “I’ll bet anything you’re smarter than all the rest of them already. And if my father says you can be a doctor, no one’s arguing with that.” He offered her a half smile. “I know they need all the help they can get over there, especially if Lance keeps getting injured.” 

Jemma finally cracked a smile. “He does seem rather accident prone doesn’t he? Bless his heart.” 

Fitz grinned back. “He’s just lucky Bobbi still puts up with him.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe they’re actually going to get married.” 

Jemma grinned as the pair started walking back to the castle again. “Took them long enough, Lance pining after her for all those years.” 

Fitz laughed, and they fell into companionable silence. 

Just before they reached the gate, Jemma stopped and grabbed Fitz’s arm. 

Fitz looked over at her curiously.

Jemma smiled almost shyly. “I just wanted to say thanks. For sticking up for me and for, well, everything.” 

Fitz grinned back. “That’s what best friends do.” He paused for a moment. “And anything was worth the look on Master Sitwell’s face when you told him that his job wasn’t to worry about gender roles.” 

Jemma laughed and pulled him into a quick hug. “Come on, we should _both_ go see Lance. He needs some cheering up. Mack and the rest of the cavalry have really been teasing him.” 

“And _we’re_ not going to tease him?” Fitz replied, raising his eyebrows. 

Jemma grinned. “I mean _yes_ , but that’s beside the point.” 

Laughing uproariously, the pair returned to the castle, Master Sitwell and worries about Jemma’s future all forgotten. 

When Fitz finally got back to the family quarters, it was past midnight and his mother was waiting up for him. 

“Leo,” the queen said reproachfully. On nights when he had astronomy class, he was to be back by 10 o’clock. 

“Sorry, Mother,” Fitz replied sheepishly. His parents were the only people that Fitz allowed to call him Leo, not that he saw his father all that often anyway. 

“Master Sitwell said that Jemma was rude to him during your lesson today,” Fitz’s mother said softly.

Fitz looked up at this, instantly furious. “He said WHAT? That’s not true, Mother! _Master Sitwell_ was rude to _Jemma_ , not the other way around. He was making fun of her for not being ‘accomplished.’” Fitz’s voice turned into a mockery of his astronomy tutor. 

The queen smiled slightly. “I figured as much. I told Master Sitwell that Jemma was like a second child to us and that she should be treated as such. Hopefully he won’t give her any more trouble.” 

A smile grew across Fitz’s face as he ran over to his mother, throwing his arms around her in a hug. “Thank you.” 

The queen held Fitz to her tightly. “Of course, Leo.” She drew back. “Now, bed! Right this minute. And I’ll have some words with Lance Hunter about keeping ten-year-old children out past midnight.” 

“I’m eleven in a week, Mother!” Fitz complained. 

The queen rolled her eyes. “Bed, Leo!” Her face softened. “Sweet dreams, darling.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Fitz had to smile as he wandered sleepily into his room. It had been a good day, in the end.

****

“Fitz made the splint.” A twelve-year-old Jemma Simmons gestured to the device now bracketing the injured man’s leg. 

“And Jemma figured a compound that should help it heal faster,” Fitz added, pride evident in his voice. 

“I can’t believe you made it through the battle fine and then broke your leg falling off your horse. Every single time, Lance.” There was more than the smallest hint of a laugh in the voice of former Lady Bobbi Morse, now Lady Hunter, as she sat on the edge of the bed where her husband, Lance Hunter, was lying. 

“It wasn’t so much of a battle as it was a skirmish, Bob,” Lance replied, groaning in pain. “And he bucked! I didn’t even do anything! It wasn’t my fault!’ 

“My aunt says that you need to start accepting responsibility for your actions,” Jemma said matter-of-factly, smirking at her charge. 

Lance turned his gaze from Bobbi to Jemma, his eyes settling into a glare. “Well you can tell Maggie-” 

“Lance.” Bobbi warned, though there was still laughter in her eyes at Jemma’s repetition of Lady Margaret Mackenzie’s words. 

Lance sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

“Are you feeling better?” Jemma asked, concerned, the teasing hint gone from her voice. “I did what I could to stop it from hurting so much.” 

Lance sighed again and turned back to her, his face softer. “Still hurts, but it’s better. Thanks, love. And thank you too, Fitz.” He offered Fitz a small, pained smile. “I owe you both. The rest of staff at the infirmary are hopeless compared to you two geniuses.” 

“It’s true,” Bobbi agreed with a smile. “We’re really lucky to have you guys.” 

Jemma and Fitz glowed at the compliments. 

“So how long until I’m back on my feet, Doc,” Lance asked, his tone half-joking, half-serious. 

Jemma frowned. “Around two months, I’d think. But it could be worse.” Her face brightened slightly. “Your break isn’t nearly as bad as Sir William Koenig’s was.”

Fitz shuddered slightly beside Jemma. He could still see the bone poking out of Billy’s leg as the palace surgeons and Jemma set it back in place. Fitz could help with splints and medicine, but when it came to actual surgery, Fitz had no stomach for it. He’d much rather be back in the lab where he was removed from everything. Jemma, however, had taken to medicine as though she was born for it. She preferred their lab too, of course, but setting broken bones and treating colds and even helping deliver the occasional baby had become like second nature to Jemma. Fitz was just around to help out. Whatever Jemma did, he could do too… or help with at least. 

Lance shook his head, turning to Bobbi. “And we were supposed to start training them next week too. Mack’s just taken on Lincoln, he can’t train Fitz at the same time.” 

Lincoln was Lincoln Campbell, Mack’s newly acquired squire. Fitz and Jemma didn’t know him particularly well, but they had decided he would make a good addition to their group. 

Bobbi offered Lance a half smile. “Mack will be fine training Fitz _and_ Lincoln for a couple months while you’re stuck here. And _I’ve_ got Jemma.” 

Jemma and Fitz exchanged glances.

“You’ve got Jemma for what, Bobbi?” Fitz asked hesitantly.

Bobbi turned to him, a mischievous grin on her face. “The king’s concerned that you both are too wrapped up in science and academics, so he’s asked Lance and I to give you both some physical training.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. “ _You_ and Lance?” he asked, confused. “Since when do _you_ …. Ohhhhh…” Fitz stopped, his eyes widening as his mouth fell open. He turned to Jemma to see an expression matching his.

Bobbi and Lance shared a smile. 

“So it’s true,” Jemma said finally, shaking her head. “It’s all true.” 

Bobbi shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the glint in her eyes said otherwise. 

For as long as Jemma and Fitz could remember, King Coulson’s cavalry had been shrouded in secrecy. No one knew where the king and his men went when they left the castle. The only answer anyone would ever get from them was that they were going “on campaign,” but that was it. There was rarely any actual fighting, though skirmishes with bands of smugglers that roamed the outer edges of the kingdom, like the one Lance had been involved in, were relatively common. At the same time, however, the king’s fighting force was fairly big, as big as any from their neighboring kingdoms that were always warring with each other. It had always seemed odd to Fitz and Jemma that the king would have such a large and highly skilled band of knights with no real battles.

But there was another secret, a deeper secret, that surrounded King Coulson’s cavalry. There were tales of a fighting force made entirely of women, led by a fearsome warrior who had fought off invaders in the years just before Fitz and Jemma were born. It was said that this woman had created a small band to be called on only in the most dire of circumstances. They were Coulson’s best, the stories said, the Cavalry with a capital C. And, it seemed, Fitz and Jemma’s long-time friend and co-conspirator was part of it. 

“Time for dinner, you two,” Bobbi said, as though she hadn’t just dropped a huge revelation on her two young friends. “Run along home. Lance and I will be fine here.” 

Jemma and Fitz left, still speechless. 

As soon as they were out of earshot from Lance’s room, Fitz and Jemma turned to each other. 

“The _Cavalry_!” 

“ _Bobbi_!” 

They both laughed. 

“But training,” Jemma said, her eyes shining, “that should be exciting.” 

Fitz nodded his agreement. “On to the next adventure.” His face fell slightly. “It’d be nice to hear news like this from my father for once though, you know? I mean, I understand that he’s busy, but it’d be nice to actually know what he wants from me.” 

Jemma smiled sympathetically. “King Coulson’s really dedicated to whatever it is that the cavalry is trying to do. Once they complete their mission, he’ll be home more.” 

Fitz shrugged. “ _If_ they actually complete their mission. Whatever that is.”


	3. The Truth

By the time Jemma and Fitz turned fourteen, they had become fairly proficient in riding and combat, due to Bobbi and Lance’s tireless efforts. Jemma had seen nothing of the almost mythical leader of the Cavalry, but Bobbi’s skills alone testified to the existence of the secret army. A pair of daggers was her weapon of choice, but Bobbi could wield a broadsword as well (or better) than any male knight, and her horsemanship was superb. The group of women was small, Bobbi had told Jemma, and, more than anything, it was entirely secret. Though she expected that Jemma would tell Fitz everything, Bobbi stipulated that Jemma tell no one else in the palace, including her parents and her aunt (since Mack already knew). Fitz, for his part, had been instructed by a now-fully-functional Hunter, who, despite his many accidents and regular trips to the infirmary, was actually a very good swordsman and an only slightly less skillful rider. But the lab was still where Jemma and Fitz’ hearts laid.

Any spare moment they spent in their almost dungeon-like room, sometimes with a tutor, but more and more often just by themselves. They were always working on some project or other, for the infirmary or for their tutor or just for themselves. And as they worked, they talked about anything and everything. Bobbi and Hunter. Speculation about the Cavalry. Whatever book Jemma or Fitz had read the night before. Guesses at what Mack and Jemma’s father and the king were doing out on campaign. Gossip about the newest squires from Lincoln who, as anticipated, had easily fit into their group. There was always something to discuss, something to learn, something to argue about, and even when they stopped talking to focus for a minute or two or ten, the silence said as much as their words did. They worked together seamlessly, two parts of the same machine. Everything was easy, effortless, almost like breathing.

“Jemma, can you-” 

“On it.” Jemma picked up a vial from the table next to them and passed it to Fitz who accepted it with a nod of thanks. She moved back across from Fitz, staring down at the dagger that lay between them. 

Fitz narrowed his eyes in concentration. Their latest project had been a liquid that would cause almost instant loss of consciousness as soon as the compound entered an individual’s bloodstream, to reduce death on the battlefield and to help in the infirmary. They were currently trying to figure out how to apply the solution to blades of swords and daggers so that the knight wouldn’t have to continually reapply the compound. Fitz had, much to the horror of the palace swordmaker, requested some old, broken, or otherwise unusable swords that he could poke holes into and break apart, so as Jemma worked with finalizing the compound, which was slightly different than the one they had made for the infirmary, Fitz had been poking around swords with hot metal rods, trying to find a solution. 

“Almost,” Fitz said, letting little drops of the compound run into the small hole he had created. Fitz moved the sword and all of the liquid ran right out again. 

Fitz sighed and let his head fall into his hands. This project had been so frustrating. They had made such a breakthrough with the infirmary, but they’d hit a wall again. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Jemma offering him her usual half-smile that always came around when one of their ideas wasn’t working out. He recognized the combination of frustration, sympathy, and, more than anything else, hope and determination. She believed in him. She always had. 

“You’ll figure this out, Fitz,” she said softly. “You always do. You’ve put so much work into this already. We’ll get past this obstacle, and we’ll have new, non-lethal weapons for the cavalry!” 

Fitz sighed again. “Thanks, Jemma. It’s just taking longer than it normally does for me to figure this out.” He paused for a moment. “And I thought my father might like this since it helps him and his knights. I thought maybe he’d come down to the lab or something. I don’t know.” He stared back down at the table. 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma said, her voice full of sympathy as she rubbed his shoulder. “Your father-” 

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, stopping Jemma’s words. They glanced at each other, confused. It was rare for them to receive visitors down here. 

Around the corner stepped a well-dressed boy just a year or two younger than Fitz himself: Donnie, one of the palace children that had grown up around Fitz and Jemma, now a page due to become a squire in not too long. 

“Your Highness.” Donnie bowed to Fitz. “Miss Simmons.” He inclined his head at Jemma before turning back to Fitz. “King Coulson wishes to see you, Your Highness.” 

Fitz turned to Jemma, his eyes widening. His father had never sent for him from down here before. Really, his father rarely sent for him at all. 

Jemma shrugged but tilted her head at Donnie telling Fitz to go. 

“Oh, uh, thanks, Donnie,” Fitz said awkwardly. “I’ll go see what he needs then.” 

Donnie bowed and then turned so Fitz could follow him out. 

Fitz threw one last, confused glance at Jemma 

She offered him a reassuring smile as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “Go!” she said with almost a laugh. 

Fitz tried to return her smile and then left the lab, hoping that whatever her father had to say wasn’t too serious. 

Fitz followed Donnie in silence up the stairs into the palace itself. 

“So how are you these days, Donnie?” Fitz asked, aloof. He and Jemma had never been particularly good friends with Donnie, or with any of the other palace children for that matter. No one their age had ever been particularly interesting to either of them. Really, apart from Lincoln, there wasn’t anyone close to their age who they would have considered any sort of a friend. 

“I’m doing quite well, Your Highness,” Donnie replied formally. “And yourself? I see you’re still spending much of your time with Miss Simmons.” 

Fitz smiled to himself at the mention of Jemma. “Yeah. We’re partners, me and Jemma.” 

Donnie offered him a polite smile, but Fitz could see the slight confusion behind his eyes. Fitz was used to it. He and Jemma had been getting looks like that since they were little. 

He and Donnie didn’t speak until Donnie stopped in front of the double doors that led to the throne room. 

“He’s waiting for you here, Your Highness.” Donnie bowed again and then threw open the doors for Fitz to enter. 

Fitz had been to the throne room many times before, but the last occasion had been at least two or three years previously. As he stepped inside, he found his father sitting, not in his throne, but on one of the chairs that lined the gallery that were used by advisors, petitioners, and visitors to the palace. The king stood up as Fitz entered. 

“Leo,” the king greeted him warmly, as he met his son in the middle of the large hall. There was a smile on his lips that did not quite reach his eyes. “Thank you for coming. I understand you were in your lab with Jemma.” 

Fitz smiled at familiarity with which his father mentioned Jemma. The king, though often absent, was known for being personable, eschewing formality and calling subjects by their first names rather than by titles more often than not. 

“Yeah, Jemma and I are working on a compound that can make someone lose consciousness almost instantly,” Fitz explained. “We already have it being used in the infirmary, but we’re trying to incorporate it into daggers and swords so we can use it on the battlefield.” 

Fitz’s father raised his eyebrows. “That’s very impressive, Leo. And it would be _very_ useful to the cavalry.” 

Fitz nodded. “That’s what we’re hoping for.” Fitz paused. “So was there something you needed from me, Father?” 

The king sighed and turned away. “Yes, Leo, there’s something we must discuss.” He walked to the side of the gallery and took a seat, gesturing for Fitz to sit down beside him. 

Fitz lowed himself into the chair, concerned. He had never seen his father look this worried before.

“The new ruler of the kingdom to the west of us is coming to pay us all a visit,” the king began slowly, with the air of one trying to put off bad news. “His name is Grant Ward, and I met him about a year ago when the cavalry and I were over that way. His father was a good king, but I’m unsure about Grant. He always seemed rather power-hungry and obsessed with honor and revenge.” The king stopped, clearly deep in thought. 

“So you’re worried about him coming here?” Fitz prompted. “That’s what you asked to see me?” 

The king shook himself out of his thoughts and turned back to Fitz, frowning. “While I _am_ nervous about him taking the throne, that is _not_ why I asked to speak with you. You see, Grant is only _one_ of the visitors I am expected. The other is his younger sister, Daisy.” The king smiled to himself. “She’s one of the most fiery and enthusiastic young women I have ever encountered, and she’s just your age. She’s very bright and eager to learn, and I think you’d both get on very well.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. Was this _really_ what his father wanted to talk to him about? “Father, if this is you trying to get me to marry this princess, I don’t want any part of it.” 

“Oh, no, no, Leo,” his father replied hastily. “This is far more than that. I’m trying to warn you. There’s a very pretty and vivacious girl coming to the palace, and I want to prepare you-” 

Fitz stood up and started walking toward the door. The very _last_ thing Fitz needed right now was the sex talk from his dad in the middle of the throne room about a girl he hadn’t even met yet. 

“Leo, please. I’m trying to tell you about the curse that was placed on you as a baby.” 

Fitz stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face his father who was still seated on the side of the hall. 

“What?” 

The king took a deep breath. “An evil sorcerer placed a curse on you when you were two weeks old. There was nothing we could do. Maveth…” He trailed off. 

Fitz walked slowly back across the room toward his father, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand, Father.” 

The king looked up as Fitz sat back down beside him. He offered his son a small smile and then began his tale. “We were having a party for your christening. Half the cavalry and their wives were there and many others from the palace besides. Your mother and I were so happy. Everyone was. The kingdom had been secure for almost an entire year, crops were flourishing, towns were thriving, and you…” The king stared off into space, smiling almost wistfully at the memory. “You were perfect. Our beautiful little boy, born without a hitch.” He paused. “But then Maveth arrived. 

“No one knows where he came from, but Maveth is a sorcerer with unprecedented power. I’d considered him a fairytale, a legend, but then he appeared in the middle of this very room in a cloud of sand and wind and stone. He approached your cradle and offered you a gift.” The king stopped and dabbed at his eyes, the memory clearly upsetting him. 

“I tried to save you, my son, I tried,” the king continued, sniffling. “We begged, we _pleaded_ with Maveth, but he was unmovable. And then one of our knights, our youngest, the most daring-” 

“Fitz,” Fitz filled in, now understanding what Dame Isobel had meant when she said that her son had died trying to save Fitz’s life. 

The king smiled slightly. “Yes, young Eoin Fitz, Dame Isobel’s son and Lady Mackenzie’s first husband. He stood up to Maveth, charged toward him, tried to kill him, but Maveth pulled him into a vortex, and when the wind died down and the sand fell out of the air, Maveth was alone and Eoin was gone.” He hung his head. “Not a day goes by that I don’t regret not having done something, anything. I took a son from his mother. A husband from his wife.” 

“They don’t blame you, Father,” Fitz said desperately, wanting to help his father in any way he could. He had never seen the older man look so hopeless, so helpless, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. His father had always been strong and brave and kind, if a bit standoffish. The man hunched over in the chair before Fitz was a far cry from the hero Fitz had always both looked up to and resented for his lack of attention. “They’ve never said anything even remotely-” 

“They wouldn’t,” the king interrupted, looking up at his son sorrowfully. “No, they don’t blame me; they’re too good, Margaret and Isobel. I don’t deserve their kindness.” 

Fitz didn’t know what to say. 

“So Eoin disappeared,” the king continued after collecting himself, “and Maveth returned to you. He picked you up, ignoring Margaret’s screams, ignoring your cries, and he cursed you that though you will be brilliant and hardworking and determined, as soon as you kiss the lips of your true love, all who know you will forget you and your true love will hate you more than anything.” 

Fitz recoiled in horror, standing up and walking a few paces away from his father. He was cursed. _Actually_ cursed. He had never met anyone who was cursed before. In fact, he and Jemma had not been quite sure curses existed, or at least that they existed in such a dramatic a fashion as was commonly believed. But here he was, living proof that curses existed and could, apparently, horribly affect the lives of those they were cast upon. If Fitz had not been so terrified, he would have been fascinated. But there were still some questions nagging at the back of his mind. He took a deep breath and turned around to face his father. “Why?” 

The king looked at him, confused. “Why what?” 

“Why did Maveth cast this spell on me?” Fitz clarified, beginning to pace back and forth in front of his father, gesturing his arms wildly. “Was it punishment for something you did or for the cavalry or for the wars before I was born? Did you fail to invite him to my christening?” he added half-joking, referencing one of the fairytales that he and Jemma had been forced to listen to as children in the palace nursery.

The king barely cracked a smile as he sighed and shook his head. “It was nothing we did. Maveth can see the future, or at least parts of the future, and it seems you were to bring about his destruction.” 

“Then why not finish me off back then?” Fitz asked, still pacing, his head reeling. “Surely it would have been easier to him to kill a defenseless baby rather than wait for me to grow up and fall in love.” 

“Maveth said that before you bring about his destruction, you are, apparently, to ‘be his salvation,’” the king quoted. “Whatever that means.” 

“Then why not kill me instead of making everyone forget me?” Fitz continued his questioning. 

“That’s what Maveth does,” the king answered, shrugging, his eyes on the ground. “The name Maveth means ‘death by punishment.’ The idea is that in making the entire kingdom forget you, you will be so punished that it will be like death or will even cause your death.” The king finally looked up to meet Fitz’s eyes. “He means to have the pain destroy you.” 

Fitz took a shuddering breath, stopping his pacing and staring off at the dais where the thrones of his parents stood over everything. He imagined their expressions of horror as the sorcerer stood in their midst and cursed their baby, just weeks old, not for any crime of theirs, but for something the child would do in the future. He could see Lady Mackenzie sobbing on the far side of the hall as Dame Isobel comforted her. Perhaps Jemma’s parents had even been there, her mother heavy with child, ready to give birth to Jemma in no more than a week and a half’s time. A whole crowd of people had been there, his father had said, and yet Fitz had never even suspected. 

Fitz finally turned back to his father. “So what do we do?” 

“We kill Maveth,” the king answered. “That’s how to end the curse.” 

“Where is he?” Fitz asked. 

The king sighed again. “That’s the thing; we have no idea.” The older man shook his head. “We’ve been searching for over fourteen years, Leo, and we’ve barely found anything. Just leads, but never anything real. He’s a sorcerer. How do you even kill a sorcerer?” The king threw his head in his hands. 

“So _that’s_ where you’ve been all these years,” Fitz realized, speaking more to himself than to his father. 

The king nodded. “Yes, for the most part. I mean we have to deal with smugglers and keep the peace with our neighbors, but we spend most of our time searching for anything on Maveth. For you, and for Eoin.” 

“Do they all know?” Fitz asked another question. “The cavalry, I mean. Do they all know what they’re looking for?” 

The king shook his head. “Some do, most don’t. The highest ranked ones that happened to be at your christening certainly do, John Simmons for one, and a few others besides that – Alphonso, Lance. Lance was actually taken on as a squire younger than one would normally be just because we needed more men for the search. Jemma’s father told him everything but made him keep it quiet.” 

Fitz raised his eyebrows slightly. He and Jemma had always considered Lance to be a gossip, someone who couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, but here was the second life-altering secret Fitz had discovered his friend had kept, after Bobbi’s double-life with the Cavalry. Apparently their friend wasn’t as careless as they had thought. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t made more progress, son,” the king said finally, looking meek and penitent. “We don’t know where Maveth is. We don’t know how to kill him. We just have lead after lead after lead. You deserve better than me.” 

Fitz felt disgusted with himself. As long as Fitz could remember, he’d resented his father for his near constant absences, for sending news to Fitz by way of Mack and Lance and Bobbi rather than contacting Fitz himself. Fitz had complained to Jemma about him more times than he could count, and he’d let more than a few comments on the matter spill out to his other friends and even to his mother. But now the truth came out. Fitz’s father did not dislike him as Fitz had always worried; rather, the king loved Fitz more than he had ever known. Fitz had never been so humbled, so ashamed. 

“Don’t apologize, Father,” Fitz insisted, trying to atone for all the now-unfounded bitterness he’d felt for so long. “He’s an evil sorcerer; you’re just a man, even if you are the best king we’ve ever had.” 

Fitz’s words did nothing to alter his father’s expression. 

“Do you want Jemma and me to help you figure out how to kill him?” Fitz asked after a moment. 

This caused some reaction in the king. He looked up at his son, shaking his head definitively. “Absolutely not. Jemma must _not_ know about this, Leo; indeed, no one must know besides those who know already, and you shouldn’t discuss the curse even with them. This secret is of the utmost importance, Leo, and there can be no conversation on the matter.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes at his father. “But Jemma-” 

“Need not be bothered with this,” the king interrupted. “Nor should you be. This is my job, Leo, not yours. Enjoy your carefree youth for now, just bear all this in mind when the princess arrives next week.” 

Fitz sighed. “The princess won’t be my true love, Father, and even if she was, I just won’t kiss her. That’s easy.” 

His father offered him a half smile. “Maybe not so easy. But thank you, Leo. You may go back to your lab. I’m sure Jemma’s wondering where you’ve gone.” 

Fitz hesitated, unsure of how to leave things with his father. “Thanks for telling me about this,” he said finally. 

The king nodded, a small smile on his face, and Fitz walked out of the throne room. 

As the doors closed behind him, Fitz heard another voice in the room he had just left. 

He stopped and pressed his ear against the door to listen, grateful the corridor was deserted. 

“How did he take it, Phillip?” The voice was his mother’s. 

A sigh. “As well as can be expected. We have to find that monster, Audrey!” His father’s voice was angry now as it hadn’t been when speaking to Fitz. 

“Phillip, you will. You’ll save him. _We’ll_ save him.” 

The room grew quiet, and Fitz moved away from the door, walking aimlessly, not paying any particular attention to where he was going. He was cursed. A sorcerer wanted him dead, or at least dead to everyone who mattered to him. 

Bits and pieces of his life started adding together. The close friendship he and Jemma had always had with Dame Isobel that had just always existed but that Fitz had never questioned. It had started with the sorcerer, with the curse. Then there was the insistence that Fitz learn to fight, that Fitz take all sorts of lessons in science and other subjects, subjects about which no other children in the palace were learning. It was all to help Fitz if he had to figure out how to kill Maveth and save himself all alone. 

“Fitz!” Jemma’s voice brought him back to reality. Apparently his legs had carried him back to the lab. “I’m so glad you’re back! I had an idea about the compound!” 

Fitz tried to smile at his friend but he was unable to. Even the guilt over his feelings for his father was overshadowed by the fear of a specter, a curse, things he couldn’t remember but could only imagine. 

Jemma had been about to explain her idea, but she stopped at his expression. “Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned, walking over to him, clearly no longer thinking about their project. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” She offered him a small smile in reference to a previous conversation in which they had mutually agreed that there were no such things as ghosts. 

Fitz’s expression didn’t change. “I’m fine, Jemma.” 

“What did your father need?” she asked, her eyes narrowed, clearly not believing him.

“Nothing.” Fitz moved back to the lab bench where the dagger laid on the table waiting for him to get back to work. 

“It can’t be nothing,” Jemma insisted, following him. “Just look at you!” 

“It’s nothing, Jemma!” Fitz repeated, his words coming out much more harshly than intended. 

His friend shrank away from him. “Fine,” she said almost to herself, her eyes cloudy, an expression on her face that Fitz had only seen directed at rude tutors and some of their more obnoxious fellow children. 

Fitz instantly felt sorry for snapping at Jemma, but he didn’t know what he could do. His father had forbidden him from telling Jemma about the curse. He just wanted the whole matter dropped. 

Usually when Fitz and Jemma had had a row, the anger or annoyance lasted only a few minutes before some problem or breakthrough or mutual unspoken decision to forget the matter entirely brought them back together. But it seemed this argument was different from any they had ever had. For the first time Fitz could remember, he and Jemma did not speak to each other for the rest of the day. Fitz was giving Jemma space, and Jemma, it seemed, was still mad at him. He worked on his dagger. She worked on her compound. They stayed in opposite sides of the lab, and the only noises that could be heard were the sounds of water dripping in the passageway and of muffled footsteps from the palace floor above them. 

As dinner approached, Jemma left without a word, leaving Fitz to follow. She turned in the direction of her family’s quarters without even waiting for Fitz to emerge from the basement. Often he and Jemma would go call on Dame Isobel or Lance and Bobbi after an afternoon in the lab, but Fitz was left in the corridor without so much as a word. Apparently he would dine alone with his parents that evening. 

As Fitz slowly walked toward the palace dining room, a sinking feeling in his stomach told him that this was far more than a little argument between friends. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about what with an evil sorcerer and a curse hanging over his head. This was the first time in Fitz’s memory that he had parted with Jemma angry, and Fitz found that this fact was even more upsetting to him than a curse cast by an enchanter with the name “death by punishment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, and we're getting into the real plot here. Next chapter should be up within a week, hopefully sooner rather than later.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and thoughts on anything are so so appreciated!!!


	4. The Lonely Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A princess comes from another kingdom, and Jemma's still upset with Fitz. Will the arrival of Daisy help bring the palace's favorite scientists back together, or will it tear them apart even more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up pretty quickly. I'm trying to get as much work done on everything before I have to head back to school in a week.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!

Fitz knew he’d messed up. Jemma had stopped speaking to him, and he was starting to feel as though the torture of not having his best friend could be as bad as whatever punishment he was supposed to get from this stupid curse. 

The day after Fitz had snapped at Jemma, they’d had a history lesson with one of their tutors, but Jemma had not so much as looked at him, answering their tutor’s questions quickly and accurately, but nothing more than that. Fitz had tried to catch her eye, but to no avail. Afterward they had met for lunch with Lance and Bobbi before training, but while Jemma talked fairly normally to their friends, not a word was spoken by her in Fitz’s direction. Fitz, for his part, commented to her occasionally, but she only ever responded with a nod or a forced smile that was more of a grimace than anything else. As they separated to go with their respective trainers, Lance had quietly asked Fitz if something was going on with him and Jemma. Fitz had only shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Consequently, Fitz had been thrashed by Lance sparring and had been instructed to work on focusing and trying not to let emotions affect his fighting. Fitz thought that was rich coming from the man who had, allegedly, as a squire, collided with a horse during a sparring match with Jemma’s father because he had been so upset about Bobbi refusing him for about the fiftieth time. 

After training when Jemma and Fitz would normally have retreated to the solitude of their lab, Jemma shot Fitz a look that was a very clear message for him not to follow her, so Jemma headed down to the basement, leaving Fitz to wander about the castle by himself. 

He ended up outside at the swordsmith’s forge, digging through a pile of scrap metal as the ancient man glared at him from the other side of the furnace, a far cry from Jemma’s supportive smiles and comfortable conversation. 

Footsteps approached the forge, but Fitz didn’t look up, assuming it was someone come to speak with the swordmaker. 

“Thought you might be out here.” 

Fitz finally turned, recognizing the voice. “Oh. Hey Lincoln.” 

“Come on,” Lincoln gestured for Fitz to abandon the pile of broken swords and useless metal that he was sifting through. 

Fitz sighed and dropped the bent hilt he was holding, moving to follow his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz saw the swordsmith smile at his retreating back. 

“So I was talking with Lance and Bobbi,” Lincoln began lightly, “and they told me that something’s up with you and Jemma.” 

“It’s nothing,” Fitz replied instantly. 

Lincoln glanced at him skeptically. “Jemma’s down in the lab right now, and you’re hanging around with the swordmaker who, from the look on his face, would rather stab himself with one of his swords than entertain the prince. Now I know you and Jemma are working on something for the cavalry, but I also know that there’s a huge pile of broken swords and daggers down in the lab already so ‘I need them for a project’ isn’t an excuse.” 

“How do you-” 

“I was just down looking for you in the lab, and I saw your empty work station piled high with weapons right next to a stony-faced Jemma who insisted that everything was fine. Of course she didn’t realize that the walls of that dungeon you guys call a lab echo so I could hear her sniffling as I left.” Lincoln turned to him, his eyes almost disappointed as he stared at Fitz. 

Fitz looked down at his feet. He hadn’t realized how hurt Jemma had been by what he’d said. He knew it made sense – Jemma had to deal with people all over the palace being rude about her studying and working in the lab and the infirmary even though she, by most people’s standards, should have been off at finishing school or even searching for a nobleman to marry. The one person she could always count on was Fitz, and he had shut her out. They had never in their lives kept secrets from each other. Fitz knew he should go to her, explain himself, but he wasn’t quite sure how. He’d never really had to apologize to Jemma before. They could usually forgive each other with just a glance or a smile or a hug. This was the first time they had ever not been on the same page about something. 

Lincoln stopped on the palace steps. “Fitz, what happened?” 

Fitz shook his head. “I can’t talk about it.” 

Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Not even with Jemma?” 

Fitz looked up at his friend pleadingly. “Not even with Jemma.” 

Lincoln sighed. “Well tell her _something_ at least. Lance and Bobbi are worried, and so am I.” 

Lincoln walked back into the castle, leaving Fitz alone. 

Fitz took a deep breath. Lincoln was right. He should try to explain things to Jemma. 

But that was much easier said than done. Fitz tried to get his friend alone, started so many sentences with “Jemma wait-” only to have his best friend brush past him, heading back to her room or to the lab or anywhere where he wasn’t. 

Even Mack and Lady Mackenzie were concerned. Lady Mackenzie cornered Fitz after lunch one day, asking him what he had done because she had never seen Jemma and Fitz be separated for such a long period of time. 

“Remember when you got really sick three years ago, and you were quarantined in the infirmary?” Jemma’s aunt said, her eyes almost sad, “Jemma ignored the other doctors and stayed with you the entire time. If that didn’t stop her, then why’s she avoiding you now?” 

Fitz had thrown his head in his hands, mumbled something about not being able to talk about it and then slipped away as quickly as he could. 

Fitz was certain he would have been subjected to more scrutiny from his friends if it hadn’t been for the arrival of Grant and Daisy Ward of the neighboring kingdom. The palace had to be cleaned from top to bottom, the cavalry assembled to greet them, and Fitz pulled aside by his parents to brush up on his etiquette. 

Fitz usually hated hosting foreign dignitaries and all the pomp and circumstance that came with it, but now Fitz welcomed the distraction. It gave him a real excuse for why he wasn’t with Jemma rather than the truth of “she probably hates me and I might have lost my best friend for good”. 

But the day finally arrived. Right on schedule, a small fleet of carriages pulled up to the palace steps, and Fitz, just behind his parents, waited to meet the new king and the princess. 

A footman opened the carriage and out stepped a scowling dark-haired man whose features quickly morphed themselves into a charming smile once he looked up to see the king and his family. Fitz suddenly understood the perturbation his father had with this man being king. His emotions were evidently easily masked, leaving Fitz with the feeling that he would never have any idea what this man was thinking. 

But Fitz’s attention was quickly captured by the figure that followed Grant Ward out of the carriage. She was taller than Fitz was, but only just (he was still growing, after all, he reassured himself). Her hair was brown, lighter than that of her brother, but the greatest difference between the pair of them was the genuine smile on her face. She seemed relieved to get out of the carriage, grateful to be here, and, when she looked up and saw the king, her smile grew even wider and she passed her brother and ran up the steps. 

“KC!” she cried, stopping only to curtsey slightly in front of the king before throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “It’s been way too long.” 

Fitz saw his mother’s eyebrows rise in both confusion and amusement. 

His father laughed. “It’s lovely to see you too, Daisy.” He removed himself from the girl’s embrace and turned to his wife. “May I introduce Daisy Ward, who, for a reason I’m still not completely sure of, calls me ‘KC’ rather than King Coulson or Phillip.” 

The queen laughed, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Daisy. Phillip has told me so much about you. I’m Audrey.” 

Daisy grinned and took her hand with another small curtsey. “It’s lovely to meet you, Audrey. Coulson spent his entire visit to our castle last autumn talking nothing of you and your son…?” She peered over Audrey’s shoulder at Fitz curiously. 

Fitz stepped forward, slightly awkward. 

“Yes,” his father cut in, “this is Leopold.” 

“It’s Fitz,” Fitz mumbled. 

“Pardon?” Daisy asked politely. 

“My friends call me Fitz,” he repeated looking up at the girl in front of him. 

“Fitz,” she grinned, offering him a curtsey. “I’ll bet there’s a story with that.” 

Fitz bowed in response, offering her a half-smile. Already he found that he liked Daisy very much. 

“Phillip.” Another voice entered their conversation. 

“Grant,” the king bowed in greeting to his fellow ruler. “How good to see you.” He turned back to address Daisy as well. “I offer you both my deepest sympathies on the death of your father. He was a good man.” 

Daisy’s smile faltered as she accepted the king’s remarks with a nod, but Grant’s expression did not change. 

“Thank you for your condolences and your hospitality,” Grant replied evenly, his odd smile still in place. He turned to Audrey. “What an honor it is to meet Phillip’s wife.” He kissed her hand. 

Audrey’s smile in response was dim in comparison to the one she had given Daisy. 

“And you’re Leo then?” Grant asked. 

Fitz nodded, not bothering to correct the other man. 

Grant flashed him a smile. 

Fitz wondered for a moment if he and Grant could be friends, but then he recalled the odd way the other man’s scowl had been replaced by that too-pleasant smile, and Fitz resolved not to trust him. 

“You both must go get settled in and then join us for luncheon,” Audrey said with a smile directed more at Daisy than at Grant. “There will be a banquet in your honor tonight, but for now you’ll have to be content with just our company.” 

“Oh thank you so much, Audrey,” Daisy said, sounding genuinely delighted. “I’m eager to spend more time with KC’s family.” She flashed the king a wink, and then she and Grant followed several servants to their rooms. 

The king turned to Fitz with a wide grin on his face. “Told you you’d like her.” 

As the family walked back inside, Fitz turned to his father, puzzled slightly. “How did you and Daisy end up becoming so close?” 

His father smiled sadly. “She’s been through a lot, Daisy. Her mother had died a few months before we arrived, her father was sick, and Grant was so busy ruling in his father’s stead that he’d been neglecting his younger sister, so when I ran into her in the hall one day, she was just grateful for someone to talk to. She’s a very bright girl; she’d make an excellent ruler someday. We got on well, and eventually she opened up to me about how hard things have been for her alone at the palace without any real friends, especially since her mother died. She just needed someone to talk to, and I was there. That’s a big part of why I invited her here with her brother; Daisy needs some friends. Could you and Jemma show her around and introduce her to the rest of your crowd? I think she’d fit right in there.” 

The small smile that had appeared on Fitz’s face as his father told them about how he had befriended Daisy disappeared at the mention of Jemma. Yeah he’d _love_ to show Daisy around the castle with his best friend who was currently doing everything possible to ignore him. 

His father had already turned away, smiling to himself, but Fitz could see his mother staring at him curiously. Fitz opted to ignore her.

Lunch was an interesting affair in which Fitz discovered that Daisy was nearly as inquisitive as he and Jemma, but that her interests had been balanced with the accomplishments that Jemma had always ignored (with Fitz’s complete support, of course). Daisy, it seemed, was fairly proficient in playing and singing and embroidery, with impeccable manners, but she also was much better-read than any girl of her age Fitz had ever met (Jemma excluded, obviously). Daisy seemed particularly well-versed in politics, throwing in her own opinions when her brother changed the subject to the running of their kingdoms. 

She had her own views on the issue of the smugglers and on the currently-suspended war that her father had been waging on another kingdom to the north and west. Fitz suddenly understood why his father had so enjoyed the company of the young princess: they agreed on practically everything, things Fitz had barely even heard of, let alone formed his own opinions on. Daisy excitedly asked Fitz for his thoughts on the most recent joint-kingdom smuggler raid, and Fitz had shrugged hopelessly, the only information he knew about the raid being that Mack and Lincoln had been there and that one of the villagers from the border had remembered Mack as being friends with Lance and had laughed for a solid minute at the memory of Lance falling off his horse two years before.

Fitz had never really cared for politics or for ruling, though on those rare occasions that he had encountered his father, the older man had tried to get him interested, but to no avail. Daisy, in contrast, was the political child Fitz’s father had never had – interested in everything the king was interested in, with what were clearly the makings of a shrewd and effective ruler. Fitz could already see that his father was right; Daisy _would_ make a very good queen someday. 

Fitz wondered for a moment if he should feel jealous of the attention the girl was receiving from his father, but Fitz didn’t. Just the week before he had discovered that his father loved him more than he could have ever possibly imagined, so even if his father appreciated Daisy’s company, Fitz couldn’t begrudge him that. Plus Fitz already knew that harboring negative feelings for Daisy would be next to impossible; she was just so genuine and likable. To think otherwise would be impossible. 

Fitz also considered his father’s clear desire for Fitz and Daisy to get along to an extent beyond friendship. Yes, she was pretty and smart and interesting, but Fitz didn’t think he felt anything resembling love. He had always imagined true love, especially in the past week when he had occasionally considered the matter as a reprieve from worrying about Jemma, as something that someone could just feel right away, as though everything in the world suddenly made sense. When Fitz looked at Daisy, watched her with his parents, answered her questions (slightly flustered and smiling), he felt as though he was going to make a friend, but there was no revelation, nothing that screamed out to him. It wasn’t “meant to be.” 

But that didn’t stop him from laughing with her as his father sent Daisy off with Fitz for a tour of the castle. 

“KC can get so formal so quickly!” Daisy said, grinning. “I expect you know all about that.” 

Fitz half smiled thinking of all the years where he had barely seen his father but for formal occasions. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Okay, so what do you do then?” Daisy turned to him expectantly. 

Fitz looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that we spent all of luncheon talking smugglers and politics, and you clearly couldn’t have cared less,” Daisy said with a sly smile. “So what is it you do like to do?” 

Fitz had to grin at the keen observation of his companion. “Science, mostly. Well studying anything actually, but science is what we really love.” 

“We?” Daisy asked, curiously. 

Fitz smiled to himself naturally. “Me and Jemma, my best friend. We’ve been taught everything together since we were little.”

Daisy nodded at him, smiling, but Fitz could see her eyes were sad. “It’s great that you have someone like that.” 

Fitz’s face fell as he thought of how said best friend hadn’t spoken to him for a week. “Yeah.” 

Daisy looked over at him, her eyebrows raised, but she seemed to sense Fitz’s unwillingness to elaborate, so she dropped the subject and instead asked him about science. 

With that topic, Fitz still had no escape from Jemma. Every project, every experiment, every _day_ he had spent with his best friend. His discoveries were her discoveries. His work was her work. But he couldn’t help but smile as he listed them out to Daisy.

Eventually their discussion turned to their childhoods, and Fitz recounted he and Jemma’s days escaping from Lady Hand and running off to visit their friends. However, it came out in the course of conversation that Daisy was perhaps even more adept at escaping from chaperones and governesses than Fitz and Jemma had been. While Fitz and Jemma had been given fairly free reign of the castle since at least age 11, Daisy was still to be accompanied most places by some palace lady or another suitable chaperone. Daisy’s encounter with Fitz’s father had actually been on an occasion that she had escaped from one of her ladies-in-waiting who had been meant to stay with her. 

“I think that’s why Coulson liked me so much from the beginning,” Daisy said with another smile, “me running away from my chaperone reminded him of you.” 

Fitz smiled at the implication that his father had missed him when he was off with the cavalry, but that didn’t stop Fitz from feeling sorry for his new friend. She had grown up with no best friend and no particularly sympathetic faces in their palace. No Dame Isobel to dote on her, no Mack and Lady Mackenzie to serve as second parents. No Hunter and Bobbi to entertain her and protect her as the almost older siblings the pair had become to Fitz and Jemma. 

Fitz’s stomach growled, and he discovered that it was time for tea. He and Daisy had been wandering for hours. He’d shown her most of the grounds – including the stables, the gardens, and the observatory – as well as most of the interior of the castle. He wanted to show her the lab, but Fitz couldn’t guarantee that Jemma wasn’t there, and he didn’t want to run into her without warning. Instead, he opted to bring Daisy to Mack and Lady Mackenzie’s quarters for tea. Their entire group had a standing invitation to take tea with them on Fridays, and Fitz figured that Daisy would like to make some new friends. 

Fitz knocked on the door, which was opened by Lady Mackenzie whose face flashed from pleased to curious to concerned and back to pleased in a matter of seconds. 

“Fitz! How lovely to see you!” she greeted him graciously, not acknowledging that their last conversation had been an awkward one as she had cornered Fitz in a palace corridor to talk about Jemma. 

“Lady Mackenzie, this is Princess Daisy Ward,” Fitz introduced his new friend more formally than usual as he talked to the older woman. “And Daisy, this is Lady Mackenzie, wife of Sir Alphonso of my father’s cavalry.” 

“Lovely to meet you, Princess,” Lady Mackenzie curtsied to Daisy. “We’ll be so glad to have you for tea.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Daisy replied, with a curtsey of her own. “Thank you so much for having me.” 

Daisy and Fitz followed Lady Mackenzie into her sitting room, which Fitz discovered was already filled with their friends. 

Mack stood near the door, and he greeted Daisy with a bow as the young princess replied that she remembered seeing him at the palace the year before.

“Daisy, this is Dame Isobel.” 

Daisy had grinned widely at the older woman. “Oh, Fitz has told me so much about you.” 

“Oh has he now?” Dame Isobel replied, shooting Fitz a wink. 

Fitz introduced Daisy to Lance and Bobbi together, and as Bobbi asked Daisy about herself, the rest of their friends gathering around, Fitz could see that they all already liked the young princess. 

Fitz called over to Mack to inquire about Lincoln, but apparently the young squire was unavailable. Daisy looked up at Lincoln’s name, but a moment later she was back giving her full attention to Lance who was recounting some story about Fitz. 

“Jemma and Lady Simmons are in the other room with my wife though,” Mack said almost casually. 

Fitz paled. Of _course_ Jemma would be here, and her mother too. This could be a disaster. 

“Oh I simply _must_ meet Jemma after hearing so much about her!” Daisy said to Fitz, turning away from Lance, excited. 

Fitz gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Of course.” 

Fitz left the rest of his friends and led Daisy into the next room where he found two women and his hopefully-still-best-friend staring back at him, clearly having expected him to come in. Lady Simmons was older than her sister by several years, but both women had the same golden-brown hair that so matched Jemma’s.

Lady Simmons was staring at him with a sad smile on her face. Fitz wondered if she knew what was going on, why he and Jemma had barely been seen together in the past week. It was Jemma, however, who truly captured Fitz’s attention. 

She was determinedly avoiding his gaze, which gave Fitz the opportunity to stare at her. Her smile was forced, her eyes downcast, and her nose and cheeks red as though she had a cold. Fitz had seen enough of Jemma in the past few days to at least know she wasn’t ill, so the option left to him was that Jemma had been crying. The thought made Fitz feel rather like crying himself. In avoiding Fitz’s gaze, Jemma’s eyes had fallen on Daisy next to him. Jemma looked almost… jealous? Did she think that Fitz was trying to replace her as his best friend with the new princess? Fitz thought the idea laughable, but there in front of him was Jemma’s slightly furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, and almost hurt expression. 

“You must be Jemma!” Daisy bounded over to Fitz’s best friend without introduction. “I’ve heard so much about you from Fitz this afternoon that I feel as if I know you already.” She smiled widely. 

Jemma was clearly taken aback by Daisy’s excitement and apparent desire to be friends. 

“This is Princess Daisy Ward,” Fitz said quickly, following his friend over to Jemma. “Daisy, you’ve met Lady Mackenzie, but this is Lady Simmons and Jemma Simmons.” There were curtsies all around before Daisy turned her attention back to Jemma. 

“It’s, er, nice to meet you, Daisy,” Jemma said, unsure. Fitz could see that his best friend wanted to smile at the genuine excitement of Daisy, but his presence was making her uncomfortable. 

Jemma glanced up at him, and, for the first time since he had entered the room, their eyes met. Fitz saw hurt and confusion and a wish for him to leave, but beneath all that, the small upward twinge of her lips told Fitz that she missed him just as much as he missed her.

“Excuse me,” Fitz found himself saying. “I have to go speak to Mack.” He made a slight bow, a formality he had never in his life used in Jemma’s presence, and walked as quickly out of the room as he could manage without looking as though he was running away. 

He ended up in conversation with Mack, Lance, and Bobbi, but Fitz could not have recalled the subject if asked. He was listening to the conversation from the next room, Jemma’s and Daisy’s laughter drifting above the voices of the rest of his friends. He hadn’t heard Jemma laugh in a week, but here was Daisy accomplishing the task straight away. Fitz thought he had found himself a new friend, but maybe he had just brought Jemma a replacement for himself. 

“Fitz.” 

Fitz suddenly jerked out of his stupor to see Lady Mackenzie looking at him expectantly, holding out a tray of cookies. Judging by the raised eyebrows of his friends, Lady Mackenzie had evidently called his name several times already. 

“Oh,” Fitz said, taking a cookie automatically. “Thanks.” 

Lady Mackenzie nodded in response, but there was concern in her eyes. 

“You okay, Fitz?” Mack asked skeptically. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Fitz replied, his mouth full of cookie, embarrassed by the attention he was getting. “I was just thinking.”

Bobbi blinked at him, looking as though she was going to continue Mack’s line of questioning, so Fitz quickly left the conversation and took a seat across the room by himself under the pretense of wanting to peruse one of Mack’s books. 

“Should we do anything?” he heard Lance’s whisper carry over the voices of Dame Isobel, Lady Mackenzie, and Lady Simmons. 

Bobbi shook her head. “They’re kids. They can work this one out themselves.” 

Mack glanced over at Fitz, and Fitz pretended to be engrossed in his reading. 

“They better.” The older man’s voice was a different tenor than Fitz had ever heard. It wasn’t sad exactly, but there was some hint of melancholy. Mack sounded tired, as though he had been experiencing some sort of hardship for too long. 

With a shout of laughter, Jemma and Daisy emerged from the other room, arms linked and matching smiles on their faces until Jemma’s faltered at the sight of Fitz. 

“Fitz!” Daisy called, still grinning widely. “Jemma’s been telling me the most amusing stories, but I fear I should be returning to my rooms. My brother wanted to speak to me before the banquet, and I should imagine that Coulson would want to talk to you.” 

The eyebrows of the room collectively rose at Daisy calling the king by his last name rather than his first, let alone by his title. Dame Isobel grinned appreciatively, and Fitz could see that she already had a soft spot for the princess.

Fitz stood up, nodding, trying to make his formality seem respectful of Daisy rather than awkward in the face of the present circumstances. “We’ll head back then. Thank you for having us Lady Mackenzie, Mack.” 

Both of his friends smiled at him as Daisy echoed Fitz’s sentiments with a much wider smile than his. 

“Will you all be at the banquet this evening?” Daisy asked curiously. 

“I believe we all should be,” Dame Isobel answered for the group. “And you’ll be able to meet Mack’s squire who’s usually here for tea as well.” 

Daisy beamed at the older woman. “I’ll be delighted. Until tonight then.” She curtseyed and exited the room following Fitz. 

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Daisy turned to Fitz, the same grin still on her face. “You’re so lucky, Fitz, to have grown up in a place like this. They all adore you and Jemma; anyone could see it. It’s lovely.” 

Fitz smiled to himself. “Yeah, they really are great. My father’s often away, and my mother’s pretty busy with the day-to-day of running the kingdom, so it’s always been great to have all these guys to look out for us, save us from our governesses, keep us well-fed, that sort of thing.” 

Daisy shook her head slightly. “I must say I’m rather jealous of you. I would have loved a second family like this.” 

Fitz took her hand tentatively, and she looked up at him, her eyes sad. 

“Well, stick around here a while, then. We’re more than willing to have you.” 

Daisy’s eyes lit up at Fitz’s words, but before she could say anything, Fitz heard movement from behind them in the hall. 

He turned to see Jemma frozen further down the corridor, her eyes locked on he and Daisy’s linked fingers.


	5. The Perfect Secret Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unknown relationship is revealed at the banquet, and Fitz and Jemma finally get to have their talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a lot of StaticQuake, and I don't even care. But we have some actual Fitzsimmons ship stuff now, and and it just gets fluffier and angstier and more complicated from here.
> 
> Next chapter should hopefully be up by Monday.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Jem-”

But his best friend ran off before Fitz could even finish saying her name.

Fitz stepped away from Daisy, running a hand through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now. 

“Hey Fitz?” Daisy’s words were hesitant. 

Fitz blinked back to reality. “Sorry Daisy,” he said quickly, still not meeting his new friend’s eyes. “I’ll show you back to your room.” 

Neither of them spoke as they walked down the corridor. 

“There you are,” Fitz said finally as they arrived at her destination. He gestured to the doorway and began to walk away. 

“Fitz, wait.” 

He turned back around. 

Daisy looked concerned, but resolute. “I know I just met you guys, so it’s not really my place to say, but even _I_ can see that something’s going on. Whatever it is, you can’t let it ruin all these years that you guys have been best friends. Just know how lucky you both are to have that and don’t sacrifice it for anything.” Daisy’s last words were almost a plea, a warning for Fitz to not take what he had for granted because not everyone was as fortunate as he was. 

Fitz offered Daisy a small smile to let her know he understood, and then he turned and left. 

Fitz walked slowly back to his room, deep in thought, but as he passed his father’s study, a voice called out to him, and he ended up standing in front of the king who was writing something down hurriedly after offering Fitz a quick smile as he walked in. 

“How was everything with Grant?” Fitz asked conversationally, not wanting to bother his father with worries about Jemma. 

His father sighed and looked up at Fitz, shaking his head. “He’ll be a decent neighbor as long as we don’t do anything that he views as an attempt to seize his power, but I still don’t know, Leo.” He shook his head. “What I wouldn’t give to be talking to Daisy instead of Grant.” 

Fitz laughed appreciatively. 

The king smiled. “So you like Daisy then?” 

“I don’t know how anyone could _not_ like Daisy, to be honest,” Fitz replied. “Dame Isobel and the rest of them couldn’t get enough of her. Even Jemma.” Fitz stopped at his best friend’s name. 

His father didn’t seem to notice. “That’s wonderful, Leo. Daisy really needed that.” The king stood up from his desk and walked around to Fitz, clearly attempting to look casual. “So any, uh, future plans with the princess?” 

Fitz rolled his eyes at his father. The man had no subtlety. “No, Father. It’s great to have another kid our age around the palace, and Daisy and I are already good friends, but it’s nothing more than that.” 

The king deflated slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Fitz added with a shrug. 

“No, no,” the king brushed away Fitz’s apology, “don’t worry about it. I was just hoping for an excuse to have Daisy around more often. But no matter. This is easier anyway; no curse to worry about for now,” he joked. 

Fitz frowned. He had barely been giving the curse any thought as he worried about Jemma, but his father’s words brought back the fact that an evil sorcerer had _literally_ cast a spell on him as a child… as if Fitz wasn’t having a bad enough week. 

The king, eyes now sad, sent Fitz off to get ready for the banquet, which Fitz was not looking forward to in any sense. It would just be an evening of Jemma ignoring him and the rest of their friends throwing looks between the two of them. Lovely. 

Fitz’s prediction turned out to be wrong, however, overshadowed by a development none of them had foreseen, one which was completely unrelated to Jemma and Fitz’s quarrel and, subsequently, distracted their entire group from it. 

While waiting for the hall to fill up, their group was talking and milling about, Jemma and Fitz engaged in separate conversations. 

Lincoln arrived nearly late, having been out on the errand which had resulted in his missing tea at Mack and Lady Mackenzie’s. Few squires were typically invited to banquets of this kind, but Lincoln’s friendship with Fitz and the fact that he had recently saved an older knight from being attacked at the border put him highly in the king’s favor and had garnered him an invitation. 

“Lincoln!” Lady Mackenzie called, smiling, as the squire ran into the hall. “You’re just in time!” 

Fitz was standing a bit away talking with Daisy, Dame Isobel, and Bobbi, who had all looked up at Lady Mackenzie’s announcement. Dame Isobel and Bobbi watched Lincoln’s entrance, but Fitz watched Daisy. 

Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open slightly as it spread to become a beaming smile. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as she covertly swiped at a tear. 

Fitz followed her gaze to Lincoln, who was greeting Lady Mackenzie, Mack, Lance, and Jemma until he turned to the rest of his friends, but the hand he raised in greeting to Fitz, Bobbi, and Dame Isobel fell at the sight of Daisy. He stared at her with a matching expression of surprise and confusion, but, more than anything, of happiness. 

The pair moved through the crowd toward each other as though they were the only two who existed in the world. As they met in the middle of the hall, Daisy threw her arms around Lincoln, and he spun her around in a circle, both of them laughing, smiles wider than Fitz had ever seen on either of them. 

“How do they know each other then?” Lance had migrated to join their group.

Bobbi shrugged, still watching Daisy and Lincoln. “Mack would know better than us.” 

“I’ve got no idea.” Mack had apparently followed Lance over. 

“Daisy never mentioned anything about Lincoln to me,” Fitz threw in. 

“Nor me.” 

Fitz turned his head sharply, momentarily forgetting the apparent reunion taking place thirty feet in front of them. Jemma’s words were actually a response to his own, albeit spoken to the group rather than to him, but still; progress was progress. 

Lincoln looked up from the embrace to see his friends all staring at him with varying expressions of confusion. He grinned bashfully and whispered something to Daisy who looked up at all of them as well. Her face was faintly pink, growing redder by the minute, but her wide smile remained. 

The pair walked over to the group, Daisy almost skipping beside Lincoln as they grinned at each other. 

“So I see you already know Princess Daisy,” Mack said to Lincoln when the pair reached the group. 

Lincoln’s eyes went wide. “ _Princess_? _Daisy_?” He turned to stare at Daisy. 

Daisy’s face went, if possible, redder, as she stared down at her feet. “Oops.” 

“You said you were the daughter of a knight who lives at the palace, but you’re the _princess_?” Lincoln stepped back from her in disbelief. 

“You were so sweet and funny and you treated me like a regular person,” Daisy said, eyes still on the floor. “So it was easier for me to just be Skye, daughter of a knight, eventual lady-in-waiting, than Princess Daisy.” She looked up at Lincoln. “Everything else was true. I promise.” 

Lincoln stared at her a moment before a smile finally returned to his face. “I just can’t believe I found you again.” 

Daisy grinned. “Me either.” 

A bell sounded, the signal for dinner. 

“We’ll catch up later?” Daisy asked Lincoln, almost worried. 

Lincoln beamed down at her. “Later.” 

They both separated to go find their seats, but the rest of the group exchanged glances. 

“Um, what?” Lance asked, speaking for everyone, but Mack was smiling to himself. 

“Now I know what’s going on,” he said quietly to the group. “When we were at Daisy’s palace a year ago, Lincoln told me he met a wonderful girl named Skye who he had fallen in love with. ‘She was so funny, Mack,’” Mack imitated his squire, “‘and smart and beautiful, and I’m never going to see her ever again!’” 

“Mystery girl!” Lance shouted, louder than necessary. “The kid told me about her too!” 

“Well, mystery solved,” Mack said, smiling at his squire and the princess, both now seated at different tables, sneaking glances at one another, both of them smiling enormously. 

Fitz turned to see Jemma staring at him with a curious expression, but before Fitz could determine what it was, she had averted her gaze again. 

Fitz took his seat at the high table between his father and Daisy, Grant seated beside his mother on the other side of the king. The rest of the knights, lords, ladies, and squires were seated around two much longer tables in front of them. 

The king stood. “May I introduce our honored guests, King Grant Ward-” He paused for applause. “And Princess Daisy.” The applause was even louder for Daisy, mostly due to the cheers from the group of Fitz’s friends sitting down around Lincoln who was hiding his head, a wide smile on his face as Lance clapped him on the back. Daisy ducked her head beside Fitz, trying to hide her blush. 

Ever oblivious, the king raised his hands, smiling. “Let the banquet begin!” 

Trumpets sounded and servants began bringing out soup, serving the high table first. 

Fitz turned to Daisy with his eyebrows raised. 

She grinned sheepishly before leaning over to him. “You musn’t tell anyone, none of you. Grant would never hear of my being attached to a squire, especially one from a different kingdom.” 

“Then what will you do?” Fitz asked Daisy, instantly worried. Lance was not a particularly good person to have informed of a secret relationship. 

Daisy smiled to herself. “We’ll wait until Lincoln becomes a knight. Grant may still object, but even if he does I can run away with Lincoln, and he’ll be able to provide for me.” 

Fitz frowned slightly. “And you’ve both discussed all this?”

Daisy shrugged. “Sort of. We’ll have to talk it over again now that he knows who I really am.” 

Fitz had to smile. “I can’t believe he never suspected.” 

Daisy laughed. “Not even a bit. But I won’t ever lie to him again.” She looked up at Fitz earnestly. “I love him. I know I’m young and stubborn, and someone could accuse me of falling for him as an act of rebellion, but I really and truly love him.” She stared out at the hall, clearly lost in her thoughts, a small smile on her face. “I’d just escaped from some sort of etiquette lesson when I _literally_ ran into him. He was carrying a shield – I guess it was Mack’s, though I didn’t know until just now – and he dropped it in the dirt when I ran into him. I was so sorry, but he wouldn’t hear a word of me helping him to polish it again, so I just followed along with him, and we talked and he asked my name, and I panicked and said Skye because it was the first thing I saw.” Daisy laughed to herself. “We talked everyday that your father and his cavalry were there. And then just before they had to leave he confessed his love for me, and I for him.” She turned back to Fitz. “I’ve often wondered since then if I was getting ahead of myself, if I was too young and too naïve to understand love, but seeing him here again has just affirmed everything. We’re meant to be, he and I.” 

Fitz smiled, shaking his head. He had never heard anyone speak like that before. It sounded like something out of a story, something too romantic to ever really happen. But there was Daisy, her eyes on Lincoln, and Lincoln’s eyes on her. 

The rest of dinner passed quickly and enjoyably. Fitz missed Jemma’s cheerful presence beside him, as his parents had often invited Jemma to sit at the high table beside Fitz if there were no other banquet guests, but he did find Jemma’s eyes on him more than a handful of times throughout the course of the meal. The rest of their friends looked at them sadly from time to time, but, for the most part, they focused their attentions on Daisy and Lincoln trading glances from across their tables. Daisy played her part well, chatting happily with the king and queen between glances at Lincoln. 

Five courses later, Fitz was full to bursting and wanted nothing more than his warm bed. 

Their group briefly congregated by the entrance to the hall to make sure that everyone knew not to mention Daisy and Lincoln’s attachment to anyone, particularly the king and queen and _especially_ Grant. 

“Fitz and Jemma, you _must_ show me the lab tomorrow,” Daisy intoned, causing the two friends to stare at each other. Fitz hadn’t been down to the lab in a week. 

“Then if Lincoln and I could have some time to talk,” Daisy added, with a smile at the squire who was still grinning on the other side of the group. 

Mack rolled his eyes and then suggested that everyone get to bed before Grant suspected anything. 

“So, my room at ten?” Daisy asked, looking casually from Fitz to Jemma. 

They both nodded hesitantly, and Fitz saw the adults of the group flash each other knowing smiles in response. 

The party broke up, and Fitz headed back to his room, too tired to do much more than nod along to his parent’s conversation, not even finding the energy to worry about spending time with Jemma the next day. 

Fitz walked up to Daisy’s door the next morning at the exact same time as Jemma, who unexpectedly greeted him with a small smile, a sign that maybe he could fix everything between them. 

Daisy practically threw open the door at Fitz’s knock, bounding out to hug he and Jemma together excitedly. 

“Sleep well?” Jemma asked, her understatement making Fitz snort with laughter, allowing himself to forget for the moment that he and Jemma hadn’t really been doing the joking around thing lately. 

Jemma flashed him a quick smile in response, which left Fitz grinning wider than he had all week. 

“Oh yes,” Daisy answered, not paying attention to the glances between Fitz and Jemma. “I’m just so happy. And Grant doesn’t suspect a thing! It’s the perfect secret romance.” Daisy sighed dramatically, making both Fitz and Jemma laugh this time. Daisy quickly joined in, closing the door behind her and linking arms with both of them. “On to the lab!” 

Fitz smiled at Jemma without thinking, and she smiled back, but they both turned away from each other quickly. 

Fitz could have sworn he saw Daisy roll her eyes. 

Fitz and Jemma led their new friend down to the lab at which point they wordlessly decided to ignore the fact that they hadn’t been speaking to each other for a week and instead began talking in a rapid, back and forth volley of information about what everything in the lab was used for, what they had done in past experiments, what they were working on currently (and why Fitz’s work station was piled high with broken swords and daggers). 

When they both stopped for breath, Daisy burst out laughing. 

Fitz looked over at Jemma and found her just as confused as he was. They both turned back to their still-laughing friend. 

“Sorry,” Daisy apologized, wiping tears from her eyes. “It’s just Bobbi and Lance told me this was exactly what you would do if I brought you down to the lab.” 

“They said _what_?” Fitz asked indignantly. 

Daisy grinned. “Bobbi said you’d both start talking a mile a minute, going back and forth finishing each other’s sentences, and Lance said I wouldn’t have any idea what you guys were talking about. They both got it exactly right.” 

Fitz turned to stare at his feet sheepishly, but he couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he liked that he and Jemma were so predictable, that they had been able to so easily fall back into routine. That’s what a lifetime of friendship meant, he supposed. 

“Can we go find Lincoln?” Daisy asked after a moment. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” Fitz replied, shaking himself from his thoughts and leading his friends out of the lab. 

Daisy was smiling to herself, presumably at the prospect of seeing Lincoln, but Jemma seemed to be lost in thought, following Daisy automatically. 

“There you are!” Lincoln’s voice greeted them as they stepped out into the corridor. 

“Lincoln!” Daisy’s smile grew even wider, and she ran into his open arms. 

The pair began whispering together, and Fitz suddenly felt as though he was intruding. A glance over at Jemma told him she felt the same. Fitz was technically Daisy’s chaperone, but he felt no guilt in leaving Daisy alone with Lincoln. 

Fitz tilted his head at the door to the lab, and Jemma nodded, quickly disappearing back the way they had come, Fitz right behind her. 

They ended up back in the lab, but Fitz was suddenly unsure if his suggestion of coming down here together was a good idea. Jemma had moved naturally over to her area, but once she got there she froze, clearly uncomfortable. 

After a few moments, Fitz decided he couldn’t take it anymore, and he looked up at his best friend pleadingly. “I’m sorry, Jemma, okay? Can we please be friends again? This is killing me.” 

Jemma kept her eyes on the lab table in front of her. “Yeah, I don’t like it either.” Her words were so quiet Fitz could barely hear them. Finally she looked up. “You’re not trying to replace me with Daisy are you?” 

Fitz scoffed, knowing that that was the most ludicrous idea he’d heard in a long time. “Of course not!” He stopped, thinking. “And _you’re_ not trying to replace _me,_ right?” 

Jemma shook her head, smiling slightly. “It _is_ nice to have a friend that’s a girl though, not that you and Lincoln aren’t enough or anything,” she amended hurriedly. 

Fitz grinned. “No, I get it. We really do need more friends our age.” 

“Especially now that those two are…” Jemma trailed off, gesturing to the doorway, referring to Lincoln and Daisy whispering together a floor above them.

Fitz shook his head, still smiling. “You should have heard Daisy going on about him last night, like he was the most amazing thing in the world, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him.” Fitz was suddenly struck with a though, and he turned back to Jemma, narrowing his eyes. “How come _you_ never liked Lincoln?” 

“What?” 

“You know,” Fitz said, hinting heavily, “you never _liked_ Lincoln. Why not? He’s funny and handsome or whatever it is that girls like.” Fitz instantly regretted his choice of conversation topic as he felt his ears turn red. “Just after Daisy was going on and on about him, I was wondering why you never did.” 

Jemma laughed. “Oh Fitz, _me_ like _Lincoln_? I can’t even imagine! I mean he’s a wonderful friend, and, yes, I suppose he is rather handsome and an excellent soldier,” Jemma said, frowning slightly, “but I would never even have considered. It just wouldn’t have made sense for some reason.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “We’re too different, perhaps that’s it,” she finally said decisively. 

Fitz nodded, not knowing what to say. 

Jemma suddenly turned to him, a glint in her eyes that he knew only too well. “If you’re asking me about Lincoln, then I suppose I can ask about Daisy.” 

Fitz raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “My father was all for it, but it was never going to be anything. Too different, like you said.” Fitz wasn’t sure if that was quite the right reason, but it was the best he had for the moment. 

A silence stretched between them, not awkward necessarily, but not totally comfortable. Words still remained unspoken between them. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you and for being so distant,” Fitz said finally. “It’s just my father told me something that day he sent for me from the lab, and he said I can’t even tell _you_ about it, so I just didn’t know how to react.” He stopped. “I’m sorry.” 

Jemma stared at him, her eyebrows raised slightly. “You could have just explained all that, you know? I mean I would have pressed you about it, but I do respect you and your father. You don’t have to tell me, but I would have liked to at least know that you weren’t being mean because of anything I did or… something like Daisy.” 

“Daisy?” Fitz asked, confused.

Jemma sighed, staring down at the table in front of her again. “I thought that maybe your father was trying to get you to be a normal prince. Learn how to rule! Fall in love with a princess! Not hang around in a lab with some knight’s daughter.”

Fitz was shocked and appalled that this was what Jemma had been thinking for the past week. He hadn’t realized how much the difference between them still affected her. “That’s crazy Jemma! Even if my dad _did_ want me to do something like that – which he doesn’t by the way, he actually told me to ‘enjoy my carefree youth –’” Fitz quoted in an imitation of his father, “but, no matter what, I wouldn’t abandon you. The lab’s my favorite place in the world, and you’re… I mean you’re my best friend. Even if someday I have to learn about politics or whatever, I’m not trading in you and the lab for that or for anything.” Fitz paused, staring at his best friend, needing her to understand that her worries were completely and totally unfounded. “I’m so sorry, Jemma,” he said finally.

Jemma finally looked up at him, the worry and sadness gone from her eyes as she smiled at him. “Thanks. And I’m sorry for ignoring you.” 

“Yeah, in my defense, I _did_ try to explain things to you days ago, but you wouldn’t talk to me,” Fitz said quickly, almost smirking at his friend. 

Jemma laughed. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” She grinned. “So we’re friends again?”

“Best friends, Jemma,” Fitz replied, grinning in return, “obviously.” 

“Good,” Jemma said in response, “because I have some ideas about the weapons that I’ve been wanting to tell you about for over a week.” 

As she launched into her idea of using the compound for archers rather than swordsmen, Fitz realized there were some things eating away at the back of his mind that he hadn’t really let himself think about. His unconscious smile at he and Jemma’s predictable way of showing Daisy the lab. His relief at Jemma not liking Lincoln. The utter happiness he felt now as Jemma went over her ideas. And how he had almost told Jemma that she was his favorite person in the world. It was true, of course, but what did that mean? 

Daisy’s words from the night before echoed back to him. _“We’re meant to be, he and I.”_  

Fitz shook his head as he followed Jemma off to find some arrows and hopefully a willing victim (Lance) to experiment on. He can’t _like_ Jemma. That would be crazy. She was his _best friend_. It would make no sense. 

“You think Mack has any?” Jemma turned to Fitz expectantly. 

Fitz shrugged. “Let’s go find out.” 

Jemma grinned, and the pair hurried down the hall in search of their friend. 

Fitz almost laughed to himself. It was just Daisy and Lincoln and the stupid curse making him think stuff like this. This was _Jemma_. He was just glad to have her back. Nothing more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are so incredibly appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!


	6. Bad News and A Royal Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant orders Daisy to return home, so the queen decides to throw a ball as a farewell to the princess. Fitz is unenthusiastic, but as he dances with Daisy, his eye is quickly caught by a young maiden across the ballroom… and everything is suddenly far more complicated than it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing this chapter was fairly difficult, and it took a lot longer than I wanted it too, but it's extra long, and it's definitely my favorite so far, so I'm really excited. We're heading into definite Fitzsimmons territory from here on out, folks!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's read/given kudos/commented on this so far. It really means a lot!!
> 
> Enjoy!!

With Jemma and Fitz’s reconciliation, things at the palace almost instantly went back to normal. Of course there was now the added intrigue of a secret romance between Lincoln and Daisy, but Fitz found that not even the addition of Daisy particularly interrupted his work with Jemma.

Their arrow experiment had worked wonderfully. Lance had left them both yelling about how he didn’t care whether or not it was for science, he wasn’t going to be shot at, so they had merely tested how well the solution worked after traveling hundreds of feet through the air, with positive results. Fitz was still working on the daggers, but for now, any cavalrymen that went off to battle were armed with a leak-proof pouch full of the compound and were accompanied by archers. Casualties fell, captures increased, and victories against the smugglers remained strong. Fitz and Jemma’s solution was heralded as a great success. 

Fitz paid no mind to that momentary thought he had had on the day he and Jemma had worked things out. It was just Daisy and the curse making him think about true love; of course he would start to see it everywhere if that was the lens he was looking through. He was just glad to have his best friend back, and a new friend besides. 

King Grant left after a few weeks, allowing Daisy to remain behind, under the supervision of the king and queen.

Daisy lost no time after Grant’s departure in revealing to their entire group, officially, that she and Lincoln were engaged, but that, as she had explained to Fitz, they wouldn’t be able to marry for a few years, until Lincoln was no longer Mack’s squire. 

There was a secret engagement party at Dame Isobel’s, and it was one of the happiest nights Fitz could remember. He and Jemma had spent the evening side by side, talking and laughing with their friends. 

Everyone had been thrilled that Fitz and Jemma had worked things out. The pair of them had accosted Mack by the stables asking about a bow and arrows that day, and he had quickly fulfilled their requests with a wide smile and a sigh of relief. By teatime, the entire group had evidently been informed, and Fitz and Jemma were able to have tea and cookies together, talking a mile a minute about arrows and their work in the lab. 

Daisy and Lincoln’s engagement actually remained fairly secret outside of their crowd. Most people at the palace had long ago decided to ignore the antics of the young prince, his best friend, and the troop of knights, squires, and ladies that ran around with them. Daisy’s addition to the group did little to change that image, and the fact that she and Lincoln were regularly seen around the castle together was viewed as nothing more than them both being part of the prince’s group of friends. 

The one person outside their group that did find out rather quickly was the queen. With the king home for present, she had been relieved of some of her duties, and she had ended up spending more time with Fitz, and subsequently with the group as a whole. Tea in the queen’s parlor became a weekly event, but on one such afternoon Fitz discovered that his mother was not oblivious to the secret engagement. 

As Fitz and Jemma talked training with Bobbi and Lance, Fitz saw his mother’s eyes land on Lincoln and Daisy talking to Mack and Lady Mackenzie. Lincoln and Daisy were both well practiced in not acting like they were together, but the queen was observant and very clever, and Daisy and Lincoln were less than careful if their friends were around. The queen looked curiously at the slight distance between the secretly engaged couple and at the almost-permanent smiles that remained on their faces as they glanced at each other, and Fitz realized he had to intervene. 

He excused himself from his conversation quickly, shooting a glance at Jemma that meant that he would explain to her later, and he walked over to where his mother was talking to Dame Isobel and Lady Simmons. 

“Oh yes, Leo!” his mother called, raising her hand in apology to the women she was talking to, “I needed your help with something through here.” 

Fitz nodded, almost rolling his eyes at his mother’s not-so-subtle attempt to speak with him privately, and he followed her to the next room. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, she turned to him with her eyebrows raised. “So Daisy and Lincoln then?” 

“You can’t say anything to Father,” Fitz pleaded. “He’d tell Grant, and Daisy doesn’t think he would approve.”

His mother stared at him appraisingly for a moment before smiling. “Of course I won’t say anything.” She laughed slightly. “They do look very happy together.” 

Fitz smiled to himself. “They are. You should hear them talk about each other.” 

The queen’s smile remained for a moment, but then her face turned serious. “Well tell them to be more careful. I’m more observant than most, but that wasn’t particularly difficult for me to pick up on.” 

“They’re more careful in company,” Fitz hurriedly explained. 

The queen stared at him skeptically but nodded. “Good.” 

Fitz took that as his dismissal, but before he left, his mother’s words stopped him. 

“I hope you find someone who can make you that happy someday, Leo.” 

He turned around and flashed a sad smile at his mother. They had never spoken about the curse together, but that was the unspoken bit to that sentence. She hoped Fitz could find someone that would make him that happy _and_ that he would be allowed to keep that happiness. 

The king, completely oblivious to the secret engagement, was clearly loath to go back out on campaign, partly due to Daisy’s continued presence at the castle, but also due to his admission to Fitz about Maveth and Fitz’s childhood. Now that things were okay with Jemma, Fitz had more time to worry about the curse, which meant nights in his father’s study asking him questions about his leads and where the cavalry had been searching. The king was reluctant to discuss the matter with Fitz, wanting his son to have a chance at a normal childhood free from all the madness of the curse, but after a while he finally gave in. 

Fitz discovered that his father had been through all of the neighboring kingdoms, had followed a trail hundreds of miles in one instance only to discover that the scroll that, legend said, held the key to Maveth’s power had been moved centuries before, if it existed at all. They had searched caves and abandoned castles and talked to anyone even close to resembling a sorcerer, but there was nothing. Just the rumor of a scroll and the promise of a curse. 

Jemma was glad that Fitz was spending so much time with his father after all the years of Fitz feeling as though his father was neglecting him. Jemma had been the only person who really knew how upset Fitz had been by his father’s near-constant absences, and Fitz was always grateful to see her smile if Fitz left her at the end of the day saying that he was going to see his father. She understood him more than anyone else did. 

Jemma asked Fitz once what he and his father were so busy discussing in his office, but Fitz had just frowned and said it was the thing that he wasn’t allowed to tell her about. Jemma had stared at him, frustrated, but after a moment she’d sighed and let it go. Fitz could tell that Jemma was itching to investigate the situation, but she was holding back because she didn’t want to violate Fitz’s (or the king’s) trust. Fitz had always known he was lucky to have Jemma, but it was moments like this where it really hit him how amazing his best friend actually was. 

Fitz turned fifteen in August, and 23 days later Jemma followed. Daisy, still fourteen, didn’t have her birthday until late spring. Fitz and Jemma teased Daisy about the age difference (Jemma having had to deal with Fitz lording his birthday over her for her entire life) until Daisy shot back that she was the only one of them who was engaged so even if she wasn’t older, she was at least more of an adult than they were. 

Fitz and Jemma had exchanged glances, and Jemma had commented that she and Fitz had no one to be engaged to so she didn’t see that as an indicator of anything. 

Daisy had raised her eyebrows but said nothing, instead moving the conversation to the Lincoln’s impending seventeenth birthday. 

The weeks with Daisy turned to months. She took some lessons with Fitz and Jemma and spent lots of time talking politics with the king and queen, and of course she passed plenty of evenings with the rest of their friends or alone with Lincoln. But the happy life they all enjoyed at the palace during the princess’s visit couldn’t last forever. 

One spring morning, as the royal family and the young princess ate breakfast together in the dining room, Daisy received a letter, but before anyone could inquire about its contents, Daisy had run off, tears streaming down her face. 

Fitz stood up, sharp looks from his parents assigning him the unspoken mission to follow her. He knew immediately where to go. 

There was an alcove hidden behind one of the staircases that Fitz and Jemma had showed Daisy a week after her arrival. The space was small, but cozy, containing a rose-colored loveseat and an empty, half-size bookshelf. It was set back in such a way that no one could see inside unless they came right around from the front, but the tile floors gave warning to the party inside that someone was coming. 

From the day that Fitz and Jemma had shown it to Daisy, it had become her particular space in the castle, aside from her bedroom, where she read books that the king lent her, wrote letters, and kept her journal, and where she and Lincoln could hide away out of the prying eyes of the palace. Fitz and Jemma had come back there with Daisy many times, but it was truly Daisy’s room. 

Fitz could tell that Daisy was back in the alcove by the sniffles that filled the otherwise silent foyer. 

“Daisy?” Fitz said from around the corner, not wanting to intrude without permission. 

“Come in,” his friend’s voice choked out from the other side of the wall. 

Fitz followed Daisy’s instructions and found himself faced with Daisy sitting on the loveseat, her arms curled around her knees, a piece of paper Fitz assumed was the letter laid out beside her. 

Fitz stepped inside, moving to sit next to Daisy. Instantly she collapsed onto him, crying into his shirt. 

Fitz wrapped his arms around his friend, rubbing her back comfortingly, not wanting to press her for information. He glanced around at the shelves filled with Daisy’s things: books from his father, a well-worn leather-bound journal, a small mirror, a few trinkets from home, and a single rose that Fitz knew to be from Lincoln. Beside Daisy sat a blanket that Fitz had last seen in the library. 

After a few minutes, Daisy’s sobs finally lessened, and she sat up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “It’s Grant,” she said, still sniffling, “he’s ‘commanded’ me to come home.” She held out the letter to Fitz. “He says I’ve ‘imposed upon you for too long’ and that I need to return so he can start trying to find a suitable prince for me to marry, since you and I never worked out.” Daisy laughed mirthlessly. “I can pretend not to be engaged, and I can _easily_ pretend the reason I haven’t found a husband is that I don’t like any of the princes, but what I don’t know if I _can_ do is leave.” She looked up at Fitz, her eyes red. “These have been the best months of my entire life, do you know that? When my mother died I never thought I’d be happy again, and when Lincoln had to leave and my father died too, I just assumed I’d been right. But then we came here, and I met you and Jemma, and I found Lincoln, and now I have a family who actually cares for me. Grant just cares for power. He didn’t even shed a tear when Father died. Not one. He made some bold statement about ‘doing his duty,’ and then I saw him smiling at his coronation when he thought no one was looking. I don’t want to go back there, Fitz. I almost wish I _was_ marrying you; then he’d let me stay.” 

Fitz sat back at Daisy’s words, affronted, making his friend laugh. 

“Only kidding, of course,” she said, a genuine smile gracing her face, “but it would be easier.” Daisy sighed. “I knew this was going to come sooner or later – I _have_ been here more than nine months – but I’ve just been pretending I can live here forever.” 

“You’ll be able to come back and visit again,” Fitz said optimistically, putting on a happy face for his friend, even though the idea of her leaving made him almost as upset as it had made Daisy. “You have me and Jemma as excuses for why you need to come back, and you can write to us all the time.” He put his arm around his friend, noticing momentarily that he had actually grown taller than her during the months of her stay. “We’re all really going to miss you, but if you have to leave then let’s make these last few weeks count, yeah?”

Daisy took a deep breath and looked up at him, tears finally gone from her eyes and a smile back on her face, albeit a small one. “Okay.”

Fitz and Daisy walked back to breakfast, Daisy’s arm laced through Fitz’s as she leaned against his shoulder.

The king and queen both stood up as they walked in. 

Daisy took a deep breath, separating from Fitz and holding out the letter. “Grant wants me to come home as soon as is convenient.” 

The king’s face grew downcast as the queen stepped over to pull Daisy into a hug. 

No one spoke for a moment. 

“Well if we only have a little time left, then we must make the most of it,” the queen said finally, stepping back from Daisy. “Your birthday’s in three weeks, and I won’t hear of you leaving until afterward,” she added sternly with a wink at Daisy. “We’ll have a ball! It’s been too long since we’ve thrown one, and it will be the perfect goodbye for our favorite princess.” 

Daisy offered the queen a watery smile at the suggestion. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

“Anything for you, darling,” the queen replied before turning to her husband. “Phillip! There’s much to do if we’re to hold a ball in three weeks’ time! And do write King Grant that Daisy will return home afterward.” 

The king smiled. “Of course.” He moved to go to his study, but he stopped to take Daisy’s hand and kiss her forehead. 

Fitz and Daisy were left alone. 

“I supposed I have to tell everyone else then,” Daisy said, sadness back in her voice. 

Fitz wrapped his arm around her again. “I can do it if you’d rather not have to say it. I don’t mind.”

Daisy smiled sadly up at him. “I’d like to tell Lincoln, of course, but if you could tell everyone else, I really would appreciate it.” 

“Of course, Daisy.” 

And so through the course of the morning, Daisy found Lincoln and told him the news as Fitz quietly informed the rest of their friends. 

Everyone was sad to see Daisy go. She’d become such a part of the group that it was almost as if she had always been there. Lincoln had been preparing himself for this eventuality, so he wasn’t shocked, though, of course, he was going to miss his bride-to-be more than anyone else. Jemma, however, had, like Fitz, been struck rather by surprise with the news. Though Fitz was still her best friend in the world, Daisy and Jemma had grown very close over the past few months, and Jemma wasn’t at all ready to see their new friend go. 

“We have to stay strong for Daisy though,” Fitz added to everyone he talked to. “She’s upset enough as it is without all of us making a fuss.” 

So the hugs Daisy received from their friends were (largely) tearless, and she was accosted by assurances that all of them would write to her as often as they could. Of course it would be a bit odd for Lincoln to write letters to the princess constantly, so it was quickly agreed that any correspondence from Lincoln would be hidden with letters from Jemma or Fitz or anyone else. 

With the bad news doled out, everyone seemed to decide that the best course of action would be to focus instead on the ball. Daisy was genuinely very excited about the event, and her enthusiasm quickly spread throughout the group. 

The ball mania rapidly grew beyond their friends as nobility from across the kingdom were invited to come for the occasion. The girls who had been largely absent from the palace in the past few years were to return home, and all knights and squires off on campaign were to come back. 

With all the fervor and frenzy around him, Fitz quickly found that the only person in the palace who was less than thrilled about the impending event was himself. 

Of course Fitz wasn’t going to begrudge Daisy a birthday filled with food and dancing and saying goodbye to her friends, but Fitz had never been a huge fan of balls. He had always managed to get out of ones held in other kingdoms, but now that he was fifteen, he knew it was going to be harder and harder to say no, since princes were expected to marry princesses, even if Fitz was essentially not allowed to fall in love. But Fitz had even hated the two balls that his parents had held in the palace. His primary memories of the experience were of girls wanting to dance with him just because he was the prince, even if he was a bumbling thirteen-year-old who only wanted to talk about what he and Jemma were working on in the lab or in the infirmary. It was Fitz’s worst nightmare, and he knew it was only going to be worse this time because he was older. Luckily he had Daisy as another royal to suffer through the constant stream of potential suitors with him. 

But Fitz couldn’t bring himself to complain to Daisy about it, knowing she would feel as though she was forcing him into this when all she deserved was a wonderful birthday celebration where she got to dance with Lincoln, which was what she really wanted anyway. So that left him to complain, as usual, to Jemma. 

“Do we really have to go?” he asked his best friend one afternoon about a week before the ball. He and Jemma had been spending practically every free moment they had with Daisy, but that day they had elected to head back to the lab to give Daisy and Lincoln some time alone together. 

Jemma laughed from across the table. “Oh, Fitz. You know you have to be there. You’re the host!” 

“Technically my parents are the hosts and Daisy’s the guest of honor, so they really don’t need me,” Fitz corrected, with a self-satisfied grin that he knew Jemma hated. 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Semantics!” 

Fitz laughed and then sighed again. “But it’s just going to be all those girls trying to dance with me, the ones from the palace whose names I barely remember who don’t care about science or anything. Can’t we just stay in the lab?” He looked up at Jemma with the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. 

Jemma, apparently, was completely immune to his charms. “You’re going, Fitz. End of discussion.” She grinned but then ducked her head, her smile becoming almost shy. “I mean, it might even be fun.” 

Fitz looked up at his friend, wide-eyed. “Who are you, and what have you done with Jemma Simmons?” 

Jemma laughed and crossed the lab to give Fitz a hug. “Come on, let’s get back to work.” 

Fitz couldn’t help but smile back. 

The day of the ball finally arrived, and Fitz found himself being forced into fancy clothing and sent to greet guests with Daisy and his parents as carriages circled around to the front gate. 

Daisy was radiant in a deep purple gown, the bodice glittering with jewels almost as bright as Daisy’s smile. 

Fitz was just glad that she was enjoying herself. 

Guest after guest pulled up, young noblemen and women greeting Fitz and Daisy with great interest, though Daisy clearly found no one to rival Lincoln, and Fitz really couldn’t care less about the girls climbing up the steps in their too-large and too-sparkly dresses batting their eyelashes and flashing him fake smiles. 

Fitz was momentarily relieved when he and Daisy were finally released from greeting guests, but then he realized that the alternative was actually going to the ball itself. 

Fitz and Daisy entered together and made a beeline for the buffet, or, more accurately, Fitz made a beeline for the buffet, and he pulled Daisy after him. 

Fitz had just resolved to stay with the food the whole night when he looked over to see Daisy pouting at him. 

“Dance with me, Fitz!” she whined, her eyes glinting at him. “It’s my last night, and you’re the very first friend I made when I got here, so won’t you come dance with me?” 

Fitz sighed dramatically, but he let Daisy take his hand and guide him onto the floor of the ballroom, which quickly emptied to give them room. 

Daisy shot a look at the orchestra conductor who immediately began to play a lighthearted and fairly simplistic dance that Fitz knew well. 

He sighed resignedly and offered a bow to Daisy who curtseyed in return. He stepped forward and took her hand, resting the other at her waist. Time to get this over with. 

The pair danced alone together for a minute, stepping lightly around the floor, Fitz trying to ignore the eyes of the ballroom on he and Daisy. Daisy for her part was beaming, laughing to Fitz about how pained he looked dancing with her and flashing her widest smiles to Lincoln over Fitz’s shoulder. 

Other couples gradually joined them on the ballroom floor, and Fitz let himself relax slightly, grateful to no longer be the center of attention. Fitz glanced longingly over at the buffet, wanting to try some of the roast duck that was laid out at one end. 

“See, it’s not so bad is it, Fitz?” Daisy asked him, her tone jovial. 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “I’d rather shoot for ‘great’ than ‘not so bad,’” he countered. “Luckily Jemma dislikes these things as much as I do, so we’ll be able to stick together.” Fitz suddenly realized he hadn’t seen his best friend anywhere. “Actually where is…” Fitz trailed off as he looked past Daisy and the other dancing couples, his eyes falling on a lone girl in a light blue dress which floated out around her making her look as though she were some sort of ethereal being who had drifted down from the heavens just to attend the ball. The hair piled up on top of her head shone almost golden in the candlelight, small diamond studded barrettes adding to the effect. But the most brilliant aspect of her appearance was her smile. 

“Jemma,” Fitz finished his sentence, his mouth slightly open as he stared at the woman across the room. It was Jemma, his best friend in the world… and somehow the most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire life. 

The dance ended, but Fitz only noticed when he tripped over Daisy instead of bowing to her as he was supposed to. 

Daisy looked at him curiously, and she said something, but Fitz didn’t hear her, his eyes locked on Jemma. 

Those possible feelings that he had had the other day, the ones he had attributed to Lincoln and Daisy and the curse, had returned, and this time they weren’t just possible. He definitely felt something beyond friendship for Jemma Simmons, his best friend in the entire world. Oh, he was in trouble.

Fitz left Daisy, mumbling a quick apology, and wandered over to the buffet table, deciding to distract himself with food. 

One single thought raced through his mind: Jemma. Everything about his life started to fall into place. Here was the reason that he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from Jemma. The reason that the thought of her being mad at him made him sick to his stomach. The reason he always wanted to be as physically close to her as possible. That automatic smile that appeared every time he saw his best friend wasn’t just because she was his best friend – it was because he was falling in love with her, because he _had_ fallen in love with her. The realization made Fitz stagger slightly, and he had to reach out a hand to steady himself on the buffet table.

He glanced back across the ballroom, past Daisy and Lincoln, smiling at each other as they glided around the dance floor, any concern Daisy had for Fitz gone in the arms of her fiancé, to see Jemma grinning widely as she talked to Mack and Lady Mackenzie. Fitz was struck for a moment by how different this Jemma looked from the Jemma he had seen nearly everyday of his life, but as he stared at her, he realized that those differences weren’t as dramatic as he had thought. The dress and the barrettes only were mere ornaments to the aspects of Jemma that Fitz had grown accustomed to in all these years. There was her bright smile that lit up any room she happened to be in; her shining eyes that showed everything she was thinking; her small frame, just smaller than his so her head fit perfectly against his shoulder on nights they stayed up too late with Lance and Bobbi. 

“Having fun, mate?” 

Lance’s voice startled Fitz, and he looked up. 

Lance grinned over at him. “I’m not the biggest fan of balls either, but you’ve picked the way to go: stay with the food, only good part.” 

Fitz nodded weakly, realizing, relieved, that Lance hadn’t noticed him staring very obviously, he was sure, at Jemma. 

“Daisy’s having fun though,” Lance continued, ignorant to the turmoil occurring in Fitz’s mind as he passed the prince an empty plate and took one for himself. 

Fitz allowed himself to smile slightly at that. “Yeah, she is.” 

“Bob doesn’t like this kind of thing much either, you know,” Lance added as he loaded his plate with roast duck, stuffing, and some candied fruit, though Fitz saw his friend’s eyes wandering to the meat pies and venison further down the table.

Fitz frowned slightly at Lance’s statement about Bobbi. “Really? I just assumed all ladies loved balls. Getting dressed up and all that. Of course Bobbi’s more than just a regular lady.” 

“You bet she is,” Lance replied with a glance across the room at where Bobbi stood with several other women that she really spent little time with in comparison to how often she was with their group of friends. 

Fitz was struck by the smile on Lance’s face as he stared over at Bobbi. They’d been married for nearly five years now, but Fitz could see that he was still as in love with her as ever. He wondered worriedly if he looked like Lance whenever he saw Jemma across a parlor or spent an afternoon with her in the lab. If he was even half as obvious as Lance was, then the entire palace had surely already discovered that Fitz was in love with his best friend. 

Fitz and Lance ate their food and watched as Daisy traded out Lincoln for other noblemen and squires and knights, though anyone who happened to be following Daisy closely (as Fitz and Lance were) would have noticed that she was dancing with Lincoln more often than was probably appropriate, but quick glances around the hall told Fitz that no one else had noticed except for their friends who already knew.

Bobbi finally came over to Fitz with the command that dinner was over, and now he had to dance with someone. With those magic words from Bobbi, it was as though a floodgate had been opened, and every eligible young maiden in the land was queued up to dance with him. 

Fitz stepped onto the floor to dance with Raina, who he had barely seen in the last four years and who he had barely spoken to even before that, and found that Jemma had made her way out as well, her partner being Lincoln. Fitz was instantly jealous of Lincoln for getting to dance with the woman he had just realized he was in love with, but he was even more jealous that both of them were dancing with a friend, rather than someone they had barely spoken five words to in their entire lives. 

Raina batted her eyelashes and flirted very obviously, laughing at everything he said, whether or not it was funny, and trying to tease him about his work. Fitz tried to strike up a conversation, but it was clear Raina could not care less about science or anything he was interested in, and mundane chatter about the ball held no appeal to him as it apparently did to Raina. 

After the dance, he bowed politely, and Callie appeared next to him as though she had sprung out of the ground. Just as boring, just as bad, Callie was followed by young noblewomen from all across the kingdom, but not one of them held Fitz’s interest. The only object of his attentions was the beautiful girl in a pale blue dress dancing with Seth and Cal and Donnie and the other young squires and noblemen from around the kingdom. If Fitz was right, Jemma looked quite as uncomfortable as he did. From time to time, he was able to catch her eye and throw her a pained expression, which was always rewarded with a smile that made Fitz’s heart beat just a little bit faster. 

Finally, Bobbi decided it was her turn to cut in and save Fitz, while Lance swooped down to dance with Jemma. 

“You look excited,” Bobbi said cheerfully, her words and smile laced with sarcasm. 

“Just break my legs or something, Bobbi,” Fitz begged, half-serious. “I know you can do it. Anything so I don’t have to dance with ‘oh Fitz you spend so much time cooped up in that lab, you must be ever so intelligent.’” 

Bobbi laughed at Fitz’s horrific impression of Raina’s voice as she twirled away from him. 

“They can’t be that bad, Fitz,” Bobbi said as she rejoined him. “They all really do mean well.” 

“Who cares!” he replied, louder than he meant to in the middle of the ballroom floor. “Or, _I_ don’t particularly care if they mean well or not,” he amended his statement at a much more appropriate volume. “None of them has said a single thing to me tonight that was at all interesting. I don’t think there’s a girl in the world who I’d really like to dance…” Fitz trailed off, his attention captured by the one girl he actually would like very, _very_ much to dance with – Jemma, who was grinning widely at Hunter, her head thrown back in laughter at something he’d said. Fitz had never found her more beautiful. 

“Ah,” Bobbi’s voice brought him back to reality. She was staring down at him, her eyebrows raised. 

He’d been caught.

Fitz didn’t explain himself, and Bobbi didn’t ask for an explanation. 

“I’m going to steal Lance back from Jemma,” Bobbi said finally as the dance ended, “so why don’t we switch?” She glanced down at Fitz pointedly.

Fitz sighed and nodded, following his friend over to finally speak to the person who had been dancing through his thoughts all evening. 

“If you’ll allow me the liberty of trading out your partner for mine, Jemma,” Bobbi said with a wink to Lance. 

Jemma smiled back at her friend and flashed a grin to Fitz, which he returned almost breathlessly. 

Bobbi led Lance away, and Fitz took Jemma’s hand. The feeling of her hand in his, one that Fitz had become so familiar with over the course of their friendship, her smoother fingers sliding over his calloused ones, was completely different now. This wasn’t his best friend taking his hand for sympathy or to stop him in a corridor, this was him holding the hand of a girl that he had somehow, without knowing it, fallen completely in love with. 

Fitz turned to face Jemma, and found her still smiling at him, though her eyes grew inquisitive at the sight of Fitz’s expression, which he knew must have been something akin to pure terror. He bowed to her and then set his hand at her waist as the dance began. 

For the first time in his life (except for that week when he found out about the curse), Fitz wasn’t quite sure what to say to Jemma. How was he supposed to talk to his lifelong best friend that he just realized he’s pretty thoroughly in love with? Fitz could invent devices for the infirmary and name all the stars in the sky, but he was really at a loss for how to handle this situation. 

“Do you think Daisy realizes?” Jemma said after a moment. 

Fitz jerked away from the fixed point behind Jemma’s ear where he had been staring and found Jemma glancing over at their friend who was once again dancing with Lincoln. 

“Realizes what?” 

“That she’s danced with Lincoln six times already, and she’s only danced with anyone else once,” Jemma replied, a laugh in her voice. 

“Probably,” Fitz shrugged as much as he could with Jemma’s hand on his shoulder. “I think she’s stopped caring. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she kisses him right in the middle of everything.” Fitz made the mistake of looking back at Jemma after he spoke, only to find her staring up at him, her face far too close to his own, her lips only a few enticing inches away. 

But before Fitz could even think about anything, the dance required Jemma to pull away from him, and Fitz was relieved of that particular worry. 

“So,” Fitz began, trying to keep things as normal as possible, “how’s Lance at dancing? Bobbi’s very good.” 

Jemma smiled at Fitz’s chosen topic. “He’s surprisingly not bad, which I suppose shouldn’t be too surprising seeing as he’s such an excellent swordsman; it’s all about the footwork.” 

Fitz laughed. “Tell that to some of these girls – go out and practice fencing so to improve your dancing.” 

Jemma joined in with his laughter. “I don’t know how much help it would be. There’s a good many boys here who spend all their time with swords, and they still dance dreadfully.” 

“The girls dance well enough, I suppose,” Fitz mused, “but it’s never any fun. I’d say you’re a much better dancer than any of them, and you’ve never even been to finishing school! When did you learn how to do that?” 

“Bobbi taught me,” Jemma shrugged. “And I think it’s really all about finding the right partner,” she added, her cheeks turning faintly pink as she glanced away from him. 

Fitz inhaled sharply. Was this not just him? Did Jemma feel the same way he did? Fitz’s heart leapt in his chest for a moment, but then his father’s words crashed into his head _“as soon as you kiss the lips of your true love, all who know you will forget you and your true love will hate you more than anything.”_ Even if this was meant to be, even if Jemma did love him back, it couldn’t happen. He was cursed. 

Fitz wanted to run away from all of it, but the memory of what had happened the last time he had shut Jemma out stopped him. This wasn’t her fault; she didn’t know. 

“Yeah, Raina asked me about the lab, and I don’t think she understood a word I said,” Fitz said, knowing his words sounded forced. 

“Seth did the same thing to me!” Jemma jumped at the change of subject. 

And then they were back. Their conversation ebbed and flowed with their movements, both of them laughing and enjoying each other’s company as much as they would have if they were by themselves in the lab rather than in the middle of a field of dancing couples. 

They danced the next two together, but a glance from Bobbi told him that he was both being too obvious about where his affections laid and being a poor host to the noblewomen that were littered around the room hoping for a chance to dance with the prince. 

“Back to the belly of the beast,” Fitz said with an exaggerated groan, making Jemma laugh. “I bid thee farewell, young maiden,” he added with a great deal of fanfare ending with a bow in front of his still laughing friend. 

“It was a pleasure, Your Highness,” Jemma replied in the same uppity tone with a curtsey to reply to his bow. 

Fitz beamed at her. Best friend. Forbidden true love. It didn’t matter; Jemma Simmons was Fitz’s favorite person in the entire world. 

So Jemma was swept off by Lincoln, a dazed grin still on his face from dancing with Daisy, and Fitz was returned to the ever-growing stream of noblewomen. 

A few dances later, Fitz found himself paired back with Daisy, which afforded him a sigh of relief. 

“You’re enjoying yourself, right?” he asked her, his mood having distinctly improved since he partnered with Jemma. 

Daisy grinned. “It’s lovely. I’m having a wonderful time.” 

“Jemma was saying you might want to be a bit less obvious about dancing with Lincoln.” Fitz smirked at his friend. 

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Who cares? I’m leaving tomorrow anyway.” Her smile faltered, and Fitz squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“Don’t think about that now.” 

Daisy smiled and nodded in response, and their conversation turned to happier things. 

As the dance ended, Fitz and Daisy found themselves next to Mack who was dancing with a smiling Jemma. 

“May I borrow the princess?” Mack asked with a wink. 

Fitz offered the knight Daisy’s hand as Daisy beamed at them both. 

“Jemma?” Fitz held out his hand to his best friend who took it, her face flushed but happy.

Fitz was reminded again how much he preferred dancing with Jemma to dancing with anyone else, even Daisy.

Duty again required him to release her, though he could tell she was just as reluctant as he was. 

As Fitz danced with yet another maiden (Carly? Karen? Kara?), he lost track of Jemma, but after scanning the entire hall, he finally found her off to the side being cornered by Callie and Raina, neither of whom looked particularly friendly. 

Fitz immediately grew concerned, and, as soon as the dance ended, he bowed to Kara (or whatever her name was) and hurried over to see what was happening to his best friend.

“So just back off him, Jemma,” Callie’s voice carried, her tone clearly very nasty. “You’re not a real lady; there’s no way the prince would ever marry you, even if he is rather odd.” 

Fitz would have laughed if he hadn’t been so furious. For these girls to have the audacity to insult Jemma like that… 

“It looks like you’ve deluded yourself into thinking he’s in love with you,” Raina was speaking now, “but a prince would never deign to be with someone as lowly as _you_. You need refinement and sophistication to capture the attention of a prince.” 

“Now excuse me-” 

“What in the world do you two think you’re doing?” Fitz interrupted Jemma’s defense of herself, putting himself between Callie and Raina and Jemma. “You leave Jemma alone. She’s more of a lady than either of you will _ever_ be, and I must say that I greatly prefer her company to yours. You keep your ‘refinement and sophistication,’ and I’ll take Jemma’s ability to engage in a conversation with words longer than one syllable.” He grabbed Jemma’s hand quickly. “Would you do me the honor?” 

Fitz finally looked into Jemma’s eyes and saw a mix of hurt at what the other girls had said, surprise at Fitz’s appearance, and relief and a smug satisfaction that matched the smile that appeared on her face as she took Fitz’s hand. 

“I’d be delighted.” 

Fitz led Jemma out of the crowd and back to the ballroom floor. 

“I just can’t believe they would say something like that!” Fitz raged. “For them to just assume they’re better then you like that, it's horrible! It’s not fair! It’s-”

“Fitz, it’s okay,” Jemma pulled him to stop beside her. “It’s not your fault. They’re stupid. I was going to tell them off myself until you showed up.”

Fitz turned to face her, allowing a smile to creep onto his face. “I just thought you might like some help.” 

“I did,” Jemma replied smiling softly. “Thank you.” 

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Fitz sunk into the embrace, savoring the feeling of Jemma’s back beneath his hands, his face pressed into her hair. 

Jemma pulled back, but not far, stopping so her face was mere inches from Fitz’s. 

Fitz knew how easy it would be to just close that last distance, to take Jemma back into his arms, but he couldn’t. Fitz pulled back himself, registering the disappointment that momentarily fell across Jemma’s features. He led her back to the ballroom floor and resolved to dance with her the rest of the time, save a turn or two with Daisy. 

“You look really lovely tonight,” Fitz allowed himself. “Better than any of the rest of them.” 

Jemma blushed. “Thanks, Fitz. You look very nice yourself.” 

Their conversation wandered as usual as they danced, but they spent much of their time in comfortable silence with only small smiles thrown at each other when their eyes met. Fitz was lost in thought. 

They could pretend everything was fine for as long as the ball lasted, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to have face the consequences of this realization. Fitz couldn’t help but think that this was how exactly true love was supposed to be: two people finding each other on the dance floor, and suddenly everything makes sense, like the world was dull and boring and empty until this moment. Fitz could think of no better description for how he felt as he held Jemma in the middle of the ballroom. Of course it was Jemma, how brutally obvious, but how all the more difficult. He saw her constantly; they had all the same interests, the same friends; they were two halves of the same person. How was he supposed to avoid kissing her when he was faced with her almost every moment of every day? He had to resist, for his sake and for Jemma’s, no matter how much he wanted to act on his feelings. 

He glanced over at Jemma, receiving shy smile in return, and Fitz decided to, for tonight, forget about the curse and just let them have their moment. They deserved that much.


	7. Maveth's Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was tricky trying to mesh AoS canon with fairytale logic and medieval science, but hopefully it works okay.
> 
> Enjoy!

Daisy’s departure the next morning was the only thing that was able to distract Fitz from Jemma, but even then having her so close beside him, her head leaning against him as they waved to Daisy in her carriage as it pulled away, was almost torturous for Fitz. It seemed impossible to him that even yesterday his only reaction to Jemma had been that she was his best friend, but now at just the sight of her, Fitz longed to be close to her, to hold her in his arms as he had on the ballroom floor, to press his lips against hers…

No. That couldn’t happen. That could _never_ happen. He was cursed. _They_ were cursed.

But Daisy’s goodbye was still extremely difficult for Fitz, regardless of how preoccupied he was. Daisy had already packed up her belongings and taken everything out of her alcove under the steps before the ball, returning books to the king who insisted that she keep her favorite. 

The goodbyes were done that morning in the privacy of Dame Isobel’s parlor. The queen had commissioned a gorgeous set of stationary for Daisy to write letters with, Dame Isobel had made her a parcel of cookies for the journey home, and Lady Mackenzie and Bobbi had embroidered her a cushion with a rose and crown overlaying a shield, the shield representing Lincoln, the crown Daisy, and the rose a reference to the flowers that Lincoln often brought her from the gardens. Mack had come to Daisy with a plan that the next time the cavalry happened to be nearby, he and Lincoln would “accidentally” get lost for a week or so and just happen to end up at her palace. 

For their part, Jemma and Fitz almost immediately after discovering that Daisy was going to have to leave began brainstorming ideas and eventually decided to make her a jacket perfectly in line with the style of the day and therefore acceptable for her to wear in any company, but with the added features of waterproofing so Daisy wouldn’t have to worry about rain when escaping from various ladies-in-waiting, an extra lining to keep Daisy warm in her palace which was apparently drafty and much too cold, and a few secret inside pockets so she could hide letters from Lincoln or any other personal effects she preferred to keep private. 

Daisy had been incredibly grateful for everything, except for Lance’s absence, the knight having disappeared that morning and never returned. 

The entire group had eventually moved away to allow Lincoln to say his goodbye, and he had presented Daisy with a silver, heart-shaped locket set on a slight chain long enough that it could be hidden under her clothing if necessary. Inside, Lincoln had placed a rose petal and a small scrap of paper with a message that brought tears to Daisy’s eyes as she threw her arms around her fiancé. 

Eventually the couple had to be separated so Daisy could leave. The entire troupe escorted her to the palace steps where they almost literally ran into Lance. 

In a rare display of gentleness, Lance had apparently stopped to pick Daisy a bouquet of the wildflowers that grew down near the river, and these he presented to her with a flourish, tucking one behind her ear as he kissed her forehead. A few tears slipped down Daisy’s cheeks. 

There were hugs and then even more hugs until a cough from the carriage driver sent Daisy down the steps, her gifts already having been stowed away, and into the carriage. As soon as the door was shut behind her, she poked her head and an arm out the window to shout goodbyes and wave as the vehicle pulled away and drove down the lane to the main road. 

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Jemma said from against Fitz’s shoulder, her head tilted up so her breath tickled against his throat, making him shiver. 

“Me either,” Fitz replied, struggling to keep his voice normal. “But we’ll stay in touch, and my father will disown me if we don’t invite her back for Christmas.” 

Fitz and Jemma shared a smile, remembering Daisy’s exuberant singing of Christmas carols that she insisted the entire group partake in. 

“It’s just, I’ve gotten so used to having her around,” Jemma continued, her expression downcast.

“And I’m not enough for you?” Fitz said sarcastically without thinking. Fitz instantly regretted his words as Jemma didn’t respond. There were definite connotations with Fitz’s words that he really didn’t want to face. 

“Fitz, I-” 

“I was just teasing,” Fitz interrupted hurriedly, not wanting to hear what Jemma was going to say. He glanced down at her and was momentarily stunned by the earnestness in Jemma’s eyes. Whatever Jemma had been about to say, she was very serious. 

“Oi! You two!” 

Fitz and Jemma looked up to see Lance waving at them from the bottom of the steps, Bobbi beside him. 

“Archery practice then! Come on!” 

It had been agreed upon that since Jemma and Fitz were working with arrows and archers for their experiments, they would need to learn how to shoot for themselves. Fitz was having some trouble with his accuracy, but Jemma was a natural. 

The pair separated to follow their friends, Fitz immediately feeling the loss of Jemma’s head against his shoulder. He would have been fairly content to stand at the top of the steps with Jemma for the rest of his life, but he knew that wasn’t realistic.

As he and Jemma joined Lance and Bobbi to make their way across the lawn to where several targets were set up, Fitz could feel the difference in he and Jemma’s relationship, and he was fairly certain Jemma could feel it too. There was a tension, unspoken words just beneath the surface. Nothing had technically happened between them at the ball, and yet something had definitely changed. Fitz would have been excited if he hadn’t been so terrified. 

“Bet I’ll beat you,” Jemma said casually as she picked up her bow from the tree it was leaning against. 

“You know you’re better than me, it’s not fair,” Fitz replied, grabbing his own bow and stalking away from her. 

Jemma was back beside him in an instant. “Oh, Fitz. Don’t be so grumpy! You’re doing perfectly fine.” 

“Right, Jemma.” 

A few minutes later two bulls-eyes from Jemma and two fairly wide misses affirmed Jemma’s brilliance and Fitz’s mediocrity. 

“You just need to focus, Fitz! Don’t be so distracted!” 

Fitz thought privately that he had every reason to be distracted. Jemma always gave him the widest, most supportive smiles before he pulled the string back and that alone made it almost impossible for him to concentrate. Not that he would ever tell Jemma to stop, of course. 

Fitz made it through that day without saying or doing anything that could have dire consequences (meaning invoking a curse that would destroy his life), and he was able to make it through the next day and the next and the next and before long the ball became almost a distant memory as he and Jemma acted as though everything was normal. Fitz gradually got used to the constant pangs in his chest as he looked at Jemma and the swooping sensation in his stomach when she smiled at him, and eventually he was able to tune Jemma out enough to focus on his archery to the extent that he could almost match her shot-for-shot. 

But that didn’t mean things were exactly the same as before. Fitz couldn’t stop himself from flirting with Jemma (a bit more obviously than intended), and unless he was completely misreading things, Jemma was more-than-a-little-bit flirting back. 

“That really is a wonderful star chart, Jemma,” Fitz said one night as the pair walked back to the castle from the observatory, only the moon and the distant lights of the palace illuminating their path. Their tutor (their regular one, not Master Sitwell) had been impressed during their lesson to the point that he wouldn’t stop talking about it. 

“Oh, stop it, Fitz,” Jemma replied shortly, assuming that Fitz was attempting to imitate their teacher as a joke. 

“No, I’m serious, Jemma,” Fitz explained hurriedly. “I wasn’t going to say anything while he was going on and on, but it really is amazing. As if we needed any more proof that you’re smarter than me.” 

Fitz saw Jemma blush faintly in the moonlight. “I thought we’d agreed that we’re quite equal in terms of intelligence.” She paused. “But thank you.” 

Fitz smiled over at her, and the smile he received in return was almost enough to make him take Jemma’s hand and pull her over to him. 

But he let the moment go, and they made it back to the properly lit palace. 

“Could you pass me that vial?” Jemma asked Fitz in the lab several weeks later without looking up, her focus very much on the solution she was mixing together. 

Fitz picked up the desired vial, but inside of just reaching across to set it next to the glass container Jemma was working with as he could have done easily, he walked around to stand next to her. “Here you are.” 

Jemma started, clearly not realizing that Fitz had walked over. She looked up at him, and Fitz suddenly realized that he had misjudged the situation. Jemma’s lips were far too close to his own. 

“Your vial,” he said softly, turning away from her and setting it down beside her hand so his fingers just brushed against hers. 

She shivered slightly. “Thanks.” 

Fitz knew he had to stop doing this to himself. 

But he didn’t. There was more laughing, more teasing, more smiling at each other during training or lessons or in the lab. He couldn’t help himself, and judging by the quality of Jemma’s response to his actions, she felt the same. Fitz knew the tightrope he was walking on, so he always stopped himself before he fell off, limiting himself to not-so-subtle flirting, a light brush of his hand against hers, the nudge of a shoulder, his arm around her when something went wrong in the lab or when she was missing Daisy. Always they ignored those moments that felt like something more than just friendship, but that didn’t stop them from happening more and more often. 

The ottoman in Mack and Lady Mackenzie quarters had for years been Fitz and Jemma’s seat at tea, and the fact that they were now in their mid-teens didn’t change that fact. It was their favorite spot to argue and plan and even just listen to their friends. Of course now sitting next to Jemma had additional appeal to Fitz. 

“Lincoln looks so sad without Daisy,” Jemma leaned over to whisper to Fitz who automatically moved toward her (to hear her better, he justified to himself). 

It was Friday afternoon tea at Lady Mackenzie’s, and Daisy had been gone for nearly three months. Fitz glanced at Lincoln and found that Jemma was right. Their friend did indeed look lost at tea without his fiancée. “I know Mack’s been trying to keep him busy, take his mind off things.” 

“That’s good,” Jemma said, her positive words not matching her tone, but a moment later a mischievous smile spread across her face. “It’d be much easier if it were you we had to distract rather than Lincoln.” 

Fitz sat back, his eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” 

Jemma grinned. “Oh yes. We’d just give you a bit of metal to tinker with or bring something new to the lab and you’d forget about everything else.” 

“Oh really, Miss Simmons?” Fitz replied. Two can play at game. “I know for a fact that you’d drop everything for just a glance into a new medical book.” This exact situation had happened the year before. 

Jemma looked sheepish, clearly remembering the book in question, but, after a moment, she looked back up at him, her eyes glinting. “Well I know one thing that can always catch your attention.” 

Fitz had an answer to that question right in front of him, but he raised his eyebrows, willing Jemma to proceed. 

“Ah ha!” She produced a biscuit from a tray that a servant happened to be passing around. 

Fitz deftly grabbed it from her, trying not to notice her fingers brushing against his, and stuffed it in his mouth. “Very astute, Miss Simmons,” he said, his mouth full of biscuit. 

Jemma laughed, shaking her head and grabbing a biscuit for herself. 

As Jemma was looking away from him, Fitz allowed himself to stare at her. Her gown was a pink flowered one that he knew well, and her hair was pined back as it usually was to allow for the least annoyance in the lab or elsewhere, but the afternoon sun was drifting through the window right onto Jemma forming into almost a halo around her head. Fitz thought it more than fitting. Lance called something across the room to Jemma and Jemma laughed, amplifying the affect, her smile taking Fitz’s breath away. 

Jemma turned back to him, and Fitz quickly toned down his staring, refocusing his attention on the tray of biscuits to avoid a confused look from Jemma. Instead, he found himself staring straight at Bobbi who rolled her eyes at him as though chastising him for being so obvious. Ever since the night of the ball, Bobbi hadn’t said a word about Fitz liking Jemma, but Fitz knew it was only a matter of time. Exasperated looks from his friend were becoming more and more commonplace. He was also starting to worry that Mack and Dame Isobel, as the other more perceptive members of their group, were close to finding him out. Dame Isobel was most watchful than anyone, and he very often found her eyes on him and Jemma, a small smile on her face. Mack, for his part, glanced in their direction more often than normal. His expression, however, was not the smile of Dame Isobel of the exasperation of Bobbi, but rather concern and worry that would vanish as soon as Fitz returned his gaze. 

Mack had finally pulled him aside one afternoon as Jemma was talking to Bobbi. 

The man who been almost like a second father to Fitz looked upset. “Fitz, the king told you about-”

“I know, Mack,” Fitz interrupted. “Everything’s fine.”

Mack blinked down at him. “But she doesn’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

Fitz nodded. “No.” 

Mack sighed. “Just be careful, Fitz. Please.” There was pain in his voice now. “It isn’t fair that you have to go through life like this, but you need to watch out for yourself. He’s… he’s vicious.” 

Fitz knew immediately that Mack was talking about Maveth. 

His friend was staring off into space, lost in a memory. “I don’t want you to have to go through what Margaret did.” 

Fitz suddenly remembered that Lady Mackenzie’s first husband, Dame Isobel’s son, had been killed by Maveth. Mack’s overprotectiveness and intense worrying were instantly explained. 

“I’m being careful, Mack,” Fitz said, trying to let his friend know that he really did understand. “I know the consequences.” 

Mack finally nodded. “Okay.” 

The next day Fitz woke to the news that the cavalry would be heading out once again, taking their entire corps, even Lance, with them. Lance had scarcely been on campaign since he and Bobbi had started training Fitz and Jemma, so his inclusion was greeted with great confusion by Jemma. Fitz, however, understood what it meant: the king had deemed it necessary to work even harder to track down Maveth. Fitz knew he would be quite starved for male company with the cavalry’s departure, but he did not ask his father if he could join them. He knew, first of all, that the king would refuse, but he also knew he could not bear being separated from Jemma, especially now. 

They received word at the palace every now and then from the men on campaign, but nothing ever sounded particularly promising. 

One distraction Fitz could always count on was letters from Daisy, but Fitz was starting to think that his friend might have known more than he thought about his feelings for Jemma. 

The first letter he received from the princess, written on the stationary gifted to Daisy by the queen, came only a few weeks after Daisy had left, and in it she asked Fitz very casually about how much he had enjoyed the ball since they hadn’t been able to discuss it too thoroughly afterward. Fitz was fairly certain that this question, coupled with the assertion that Jemma had enjoyed herself in the sentence immediately following, was nothing more than shameless fishing for information, leaving an opening for Fitz to gush about how much he had loved dancing with Jemma (which he would have, admittedly, not particularly minded doing), but Fitz refused to take the bait. Saying the words out loud would make everything too real, and, as much as he loved Daisy, he didn’t particularly trust her not to immediately share his confession with her fiancé and even with Jemma herself. So instead he replied with joking criticisms and a comment that if it hadn’t been for Daisy and Jemma he wouldn’t have enjoyed himself at all. Not a lie and nothing that would get him into further trouble. 

The pair exchanged letters very often, the amount increasing as Mack, Lance, and Lincoln left, but shortly before Fitz’s sixteenth birthday, he received a letter from Daisy which all but affirmed to him that she knew how he felt for Jemma. 

**_My dear Fitz,_ ** ****

**_You will never know just how much it cheers me to receive letters from all of you. Lance sent me a scrap of paper a few days ago that barely even qualified as a letter, but his words made me laugh so heartily that I could scarcely fault him for anything. I’m honestly just surprised that he deemed me worthy to write to in the far-off reaches of your kingdom. I would say he did it so Lincoln’s letter did not arouse suspicion, but Mack sent me quite a long letter himself, making Lance’s letter unnecessary unless he actually genuinely wishes to stay in contact with me. The thought makes me smile even as I write this._ ** ****

**_I would offer my continued sympathies at your being without any male company at present (Lincoln said you were truly quite sad to see everyone go), but I know that you’re well taken care of. If Jemma were to go away, of course, I’d offer you such condolences that you would likely only hear at a funeral, but seeing as she has not abandoned you, I’m certain you cannot be overly upset. If this account makes you at all uncomfortable, then I know I have done my duty well, but all I can say is that the exact same is true for Jemma. Never in my life have I seen two people as inseparable as you both, this coming from I who barely left Lincoln’s side when we were not in company. To anyone else, this letter would be too forward, but I feel as though you are my brother so I write this without hesitation or worry. Take or ignore my observations as you wish, but I know I shall feel all the better for having registered them with you._ **

Daisy went on to tell him more of her business at the palace, but Fitz read the rest of the words without registering them. Apparently his feelings were obvious enough that even months after she had left them, Daisy was concerned with him realizing them and acting on them. Of course Daisy didn’t know the repercussions of such actions, but that was all the more troubling. If Fitz ignored the sentiments and acted as though Daisy had said nothing, he was sure to hear from her on the subject again. He could deny what Daisy had implied, but to do so would be a most ridiculous falsehood that he did not believe he could perpetuate. He could tell her the truth, but his father had forbidden it. So he would say nothing and deal with the consequences later. 

Fitz knew he and Jemma’s current relationship was unsustainable in the long term, but the inaction on his part was clearly stopping anything from progressing or changing since Jemma, for whatever reason, seemed unwilling to do anything to alter the relationship from her end. Maybe the stalemate would have lasted months, or another year or two even, but then came the monolith, and everything changed. 

Jemma’s birthday had been the week before, making them both now sixteen, and news about Raina’s engagement to some nobleman far off in the kingdom had left them both feeling rather odd. They had been around engaged Daisy and Lincoln for months, but somehow this was different, as though Raina settling down meant that they should be settling down too. Fitz was even more conscious of the absence of his father and that of the majority of the palace’s male population of over fourteen years of age. Had he not been the prince, he would have likely been a squire out on campaign with Lance or some other knight, carrying a shield and learning to fight in the field rather than outside the castle and in disused palace corridors. Jemma, he could tell, was similarly contemplative, knowing that had she not been his best friend (or more than that, said a nagging voice in the back of his mind), it could have just as easily been her engaged to be married rather than Raina. Of course Fitz was infinitely glad that it was Raina engaged rather than Jemma if only because it meant the other woman wouldn’t be fawning over him at balls for the rest of his life. 

But in any case, it was this news that had prompted Fitz and Jemma to go outside for some air, following a gently-used path through the woods, admiring the autumn leaves and savoring the pleasant weather. Fitz would have gladly gone anywhere with Jemma, but the beautiful scenery only added to his enjoyment of the afternoon. 

The pair walked in silence for a while, both of them lost in their thoughts, but staying together, Fitz wordlessly helping Jemma balance as she stepped on a not-quite-stable rock, and Jemma catching Fitz’s hand as he almost tripped over a tree root. 

Fitz was just about to suggest that they turn around, when his attention was caught by an object he was certain he had never seen before.

“Jemma,” he said cautiously. “What’s that over there?” He pointed to an object about fifty yards away from them, off to the left of the path. 

Jemma stared hard at it. “That definitely wasn’t there last week. You don’t remember it, do you?” 

Fitz shook his head. He, Jemma, Bobbi, and Lady Mackenzie had taken a walk through the woods the previous week, and Fitz was certain that whatever this was had not been there. 

Without any discussion, the pair left the path to move closer. 

As they approached it, Fitz saw that it was some sort of rock, a rectangular boulder, jet black and somehow menacing. 

“I’ve never seen stone like this before,” Jemma said breathlessly, the excitement in her voice very familiar to Fitz. 

“Nor have I,” Fitz replied, the pair now near enough to touch it. 

It was smooth, carved into an exact rectangular prism, the stone not at all porous, and, as Jemma had said, unlike anything they had ever seen before. 

The pair separated, circling it, staring up at the monolith. 

“I wonder what it’s for,” Jemma said curiously. “Something so exact like this, it must be used for something.” 

“And how did it get here?” Fitz added. “It’s odd that anything would be placed on palace grounds without us knowing about it.” 

Jemma nodded, her focus still on the enormous monolith. 

“Well, we’ll have to take some samples,” Fitz said slowly. 

Jemma turned over to him, a smile growing across her face. “And analyze the palace records.” 

“And talk to a stone mason.” 

“And look through some geological histories.” 

“And maybe then we’ll find something.” 

The pair beamed at each other. This was the most excited Fitz had been about a project since the unconsciousness compound that he and Jemma had developed the year before. Finally, here was something that might actually be able to distract him from the curse and from Jemma. 

Almost immediately Fitz and Jemma formed a new routine. Mornings were spent in lessons or training, but immediately after lunch the pair took off to the lab or the library or to interview palace guards or stoneworkers. Nearly always they would end up back in the woods staring at the monolith, just searching for clues. 

Everything seemed to be a dead end. They found some accounts of stone similar to this, but it never seemed to be exactly the same either in terms of quality or condition. The palace guards similarly had seen nothing unusual in the week during which the stone had apparently arrived in the woods. Whoever had brought it apparently had not used the path, since any entrance would have been well within sight of the guards. 

The pair was making their way back to the stone one afternoon, both feeling a bit discouraged by their lack of progress, when Jemma spotted it. 

“Fitz! Look!” 

Fitz followed Jemma’s gaze to the spot where the monolith stood. Or rather where the monolith had been standing. It had… dissolved… into a puddle of liquefied stone. And then, as though nothing had happened, it reformed perfectly back into its original rectangular prism. 

Fitz turned to Jemma. “How...?” 

Jemma shook her head. “That’s not normal, Fitz.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

The pair turned to each other. 

“Looks like we’ve got another clue,” Jemma said, her eyes sparkling as a smile spread across her face. 

Fitz nodded, Jemma’s excitement contagious, as always. “We certainly do.” 

Wanting to avoid contact with a liquefied rock, Fitz and Jemma moved operations to nearby tree. The weather was getting colder, but the winds and even occasional snow flurries were not enough to deter them. Their friends were curious about where they were spending their time, but Fitz and Jemma only gave cursory answers, wanting to avoid sharing their findings until they actually had some answers. Fitz, deep down, was worried that the monolith was something dangerous that his parents would forbid him from going near if they knew about it. Luckily, his father was absent, his mother was busied with running the kingdom in his absence, and the rest of their friends were similarly preoccupied. 

Fitz savored the time he was able to spend Jemma. They had turned their observation tree into almost a fort, with a makeshift roof and walls to keep out the cold. Fitz regularly moaned about wanting a fire but, as Jemma always was quick to remind him, starting a fire in a tree was never a good idea. 

The pair saw the stone liquefy twice more, but they were still at a loss for how it occurred. At first they thought it might be due to time of day, but that was quickly ruled out. Then they thought it might have been physical conditions like wind or moisture, but the event occurred on both a still, dry day, and a windy, damp one, so that theory seemed to be debunked. 

A few weeks later, Fitz was being subjected to a theater performance by some apparently (according to his mother) famous performers who had come to the palace to entertain the queen and prince, along with several ladies, including mercifully Bobbi whose mocking expressions and looks of boredom were the only thing keeping Fitz from dying where he sat. As he watched the performance, trying his hardest not to fall asleep, the sun reflected through one of the windows behind him onto a silver plate held by one of the actors, making a small spot of sunlight appear on the floor. Fitz suddenly had an idea. Maybe it was about light. Every time the monolith had liquefied so far, there had been some degree of sunlight; perhaps that was what caused the reaction. If they could reflect light onto a specific point on the monolith, they could possibly cause the stone to remain liquefied for longer than a second, for long enough that he and Jemma could examine it further. Fitz was about to stand up to go find Jemma when he remembered that he was in the middle of watching a performance. Sometimes Fitz really didn’t like being the prince. 

Two days later, Fitz and Jemma had taken up residence in different trees, each of them holding a mirror. They had set several others up in different trees in the attempt to hopefully catch some sunlight and reflect it down to the monolith. It was just a theory, and he had no proof that it was even close to being right, but Jemma had been all in favor of testing it out, so they got to work. 

Setting up the mirrors and keeping them propped up took the better part of the afternoon, and by the time they were done, the sun was setting in the western sky. 

“We’ll come back and try it out tomorrow morning then,” Fitz said, slightly disappointed that they hadn’t been able to work it out that afternoon. 

“Let’s stay out a bit,” came Jemma’s reply from the other tree. She peeked over at him through the branches. “We can use the moon. It’s full tonight.” 

Fitz found the idea of spending a moonlit evening with Jemma very appealing, even though they were separated by the stone monolith that sat in between their trees, so he quickly agreed. 

The pair talked happily as the sun set and twilight faded. Fitz soon realized that he was very hungry, but for once he didn’t say anything, not wanting to spoil the moment. 

“Oh there’s the moon!” Jemma said finally, pointing up overhead where the moon had risen above the trees. The night was cloudless and the stars were bright. 

The pair attempted to maneuver their mirrors to the proper angle for reflection on the monolith, but their positions in the tree were not particularly conducive to their activities. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz spotted one of the additional mirrors they had set up in a neighboring tree. “Look Jemma!” As they watched, moonlight reflected down perfectly from the mirror onto the top of the monolith in a miniscule circle that fell right at the stone’s center. 

Instantly, the stone dissolved just as they had witnessed 3 times before, but this time it stayed open, the moonlight reflecting down onto the now liquefied pool of stone. 

“It worked!” Jemma shouted excitedly, and the pair watched, breathless with anticipation.

But suddenly they were not alone. 

Appearing next to them, hovering in a swirling vortex surrounded by sand was a hooded figure, faceless, shrouded in shadow. 

Across from him, Fitz saw Jemma’s stare up at it, speechless, her eyes wide with confusion. 

But Fitz knew who it was: Maveth, the sorcerer who had cursed him as a child. Back again.

Fitz was paralyzed with fear, unable to move as things began to come out of the portal. Other hooded figures, masked men, stepped out of the liquefied stone and moved into Maveth’s swirling orbit. But, worse, Fitz could almost feel some other force flowing out of the portal and into Maveth who was growing larger and larger, filling up the space between the trees with his wind and stone. 

Fitz knew he had to do something. The mirror reflecting the light was in the tree next to him, close, but not very close. The safest way to get there was to climb down and climb back up, but he didn’t have time for that. 

Fitz launched himself from his tree to the next one, his hands outstretched, reaching for the mirror. 

“FITZ NO!” Jemma’s scream carried over the wind, but Fitz paid her no mind. 

His hands were just able to catch the branch to which the mirror was attached, his weight quickly bending the branch back and breaking it as both he and the mirror fell to the ground. 

The stone reformed instantly, and Fitz landed on the forest floor with nothing but fallen leaves and twigs to break his fall. 

“FITZ!” 

Fitz shakily got to his feet, feeling as though he was bruised everywhere. He heard Jemma take a shuddering breath, clearly relieved that he was alive. 

The winds died down, but Maveth still hovered in front of him. 

“Oh, how you’ve grown,” said Maveth, his voice gravelly, but his tone giving Fitz the impression of a wicked smile underneath his hood. “The last time I saw you, you were but an infant, and now look at you.” He laughed, or Fitz thought that was what it was meant to be. The harsh sound made Fitz flinch. 

“I told your father that you would be my salvation,” Maveth continued, “and here we are. Thank you, my young prince.” He began to glide toward Fitz, but a loud thump stopped him. 

“Get away from him!” Jemma had jumped down from her tree to stand between Fitz and Maveth. 

Maveth laughed again, as Fitz stepped forward in an attempt to shield Jemma from the sorcerer. 

“Oh, prince, I see you’ve already figured it out. The day really is fast approaching, isn’t it?” He moved closer. “My dear Leopold - or would you rather be Fitz? – I hope you’re ready for the punishment.” 

With another laugh, Fitz and Jemma were enveloped in wind and sand and stone, and Fitz could feel Jemma holding tightly to him. Through the dust, she stared up at him, terrified, confused, worried. Unconsciously they moved toward each other, needing to be close, to be closer, but then Fitz looked away. 

A moment later, the wind died down, and the sand had disappeared, and it was just them and the monolith, Maveth nowhere in sight. 

“Fitz?” 

Fitz said nothing, grabbing Jemma’s hand and starting to walk back to the castle. Maveth’s words echoed through his head. Fitz didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had just done something horrible.


	8. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get real in these next few chapters. Hold on tight folks.
> 
> Enjoy!

Fitz stayed silent the entire walk back to the palace. He could feel Jemma’s hand tense in his, but he kept his eyes forward, needing to put as much distance between him and the monolith as possible.

The pair finally passed by the guard who nodded at them, clearly having been waiting for their return. Fitz didn’t let go of Jemma’s hand, instead walking with her back to her room. He was still trying to figure out what he was going to do about all of this. 

They reached the corridor where Jemma and her parents lived, and Fitz finally turned to her. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the emotion he found in Jemma’s face. She was scared and confused, but above all she was worried. Concern for Fitz radiated from her face as she stepped closer to him, lifting her free hand up to his upper arm. 

“Fitz, please,” her words came out as a whisper. 

“Goodnight, Jemma,” Fitz said in response, pulling her in for a hug. He needed her to know that he wasn’t trying to shut her out, that he cared about her so deeply, but that he needed to deal with this on his own. Fitz considered for a moment asking Jemma not to tell anyone, but he already knew she wouldn’t say anything. 

He finally let go, turning to walk to his room. He could tell that Jemma still wanted to talk to him, but he didn’t turn around. 

Fitz knew what he had to do. If his father had been there, Fitz would have gone to find him, but seeing as the king was currently out searching for Maveth (which Fitz now found cruelly ironic since the missing sorcerer just happened to have been in their woods a half hour ago), there was only one other option. 

His mother was sitting in the king’s study, as she often was when Fitz’s father was away. She always said it made her feel better when she missed the king during his long absences. She never closed the door, no matter how important her business, since she liked to be able to see that nothing was amiss in their chambers and to call out to Fitz when he passed by. 

“You were out late, Leo,” the queen said with a smile as Fitz walked into the room. As soon as she saw Fitz’s face, however, her smile fell. “Leo, what is it? What’s happened?” 

Fitz collapsed into a chair, throwing his head in his hands. “I think I just destroyed the kingdom.” 

“What are you talking about, Leo?”

Fitz looked up at his mother. “Maveth. He’s back, and he’s more powerful than he was before. Because of me.” 

His mother paled at the name. “I… I don’t understand.” 

Fitz took a deep breath. “A month or two ago Jemma and I were walking in the woods, and we found this giant stone monolith. We couldn’t figure out where it had come from, so we searched for weeks for any information about it. And then one day we saw it dissolve, turn to liquid, right in the middle of the woods. And so we’ve been trying to figure out how that happens and how we can make it stay like that so we can study it. Tonight we figured out if light shines on a specific point of the rock, it opens. When that happened, Maveth came out of nowhere, and some men came out of the rock along with all this energy, and Maveth grew more and more powerful, and I made the rock reform, but it was too late. Maveth… he told me I was his… salvation.” Fitz shuddered at the word. “Then he saw Jemma and told me to be ready for the punishment.” Fitz stared emotionlessly at the ground. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” his mother said after a moment. “Didn’t you think that it could have been dangerous?” Her voice was getting louder now as she stood above him. “A strange monolith just appears in the woods, and you keep it to yourself? You know about the curse! You know that there is an _evil sorcerer_ out there who wants you _dead_ , or as good as! Not to mention what he wants to do to the _kingdom_ now! And you brought Jemma into it too! Leopold Fitz Coulson, did you think of anything at all?” 

Fitz had never seen his mother this upset. He couldn’t remember the last time she had called him Leopold, except when introducing him to a guest, and he was certain he had never heard her shout his full name like that before. Even when Fitz and Jemma would get into trouble running off as children, even when they had broken the golden statue in the garden, given to the king’s great-great grandfather when he inherited the throne over a century before, because they were climbing on it trying to see over the hedge, even then, the queen had remained soft spoken, disappointed, but not angry. But this was far beyond that. His mother was furious with him. And he deserved it. Who knows what he had done to the kingdom and to Jemma. He could still see his best friend’s face staring at Maveth through the branches, terrified. He could hear her scream as he jumped from the tree. He could feel her hand gripping his hand too tightly as they walked back through the woods. 

Fitz curled his legs up to his chest, shutting his eyes tightly, as though that would take him away from all his problems. He let out a sob, burying his head in his knees. 

A moment later his mother’s arms enveloped Fitz, holding him tightly to her. “Oh Leo,” she said softly. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.” 

At his mother’s words, Fitz sifted his position so his feet were on the floor as he buried his head in the crook of his mother’s neck, feeling like a child as he cried, hugging his mother tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His words were whispered in between sobs, pleading, begging for forgiveness. 

The queen held him closer in reply. 

Eventually Fitz drew back, sniffling and wiping his face on the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Maveth’s gonna do something horrible, isn’t he?” Fitz said after a moment. 

The queen said nothing. 

“I ruined everything.” Fitz was talking more to himself than to his mother. 

“No you didn’t, Leo.” The queen crouched down in front of him. “Even if you had told us about the monolith, it would have happened anyway. Maveth knew. Sometimes things just have to happen; they’re set, fated.” 

“Like the kingdom being destroyed and me being cursed for the rest of my life,” Fitz said evenly, resigned. 

His mother grabbed his hands, making him look up at her. She stared at him earnestly. “No, Leo. _That_ is all up to you. You can fix this. _We_ can fix this. Only some things are set. Maveth was going to become more powerful someday; we all knew it; it was only a matter of time. But some good things are fixed too: the sunrise, the sunset, science.” She offered him a small smile which Fitz just barely returned. “And true love,” she said finally, standing up. “True love always survives.” 

Fitz looked sheepishly down into his lap. His mother knew. Of _course_ she knew. She’d seen through Skye and Lincoln in just an afternoon, of course she’d know about Fitz. 

“She doesn’t know about the curse does she?” the queen said quietly. 

Fitz shook his head, not needing to ask who. 

“But it’s her, isn’t it?” 

Fitz looked up, a sad smile on his face. “Who else would it be?” 

His mother smiled back at him. “Who indeed.” 

Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

Finally the queen sighed. “There’s nothing we can do tonight, Leo. Get some sleep.” 

Fitz nodded and stood up. He quickly stepped forward to hug his mother. “Thanks,” he said softly. 

His mother smiled. “Goodnight, Leo.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Hours later, Fitz tossed and turned, unable to sleep, his mind replaying Maveth’s words over and over. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the billowing cape and the vortex of wind and sand. His mother’s words about fate drifted through his mind, and he thought of Jemma. What would happen to them? If Maveth was now more powerful, he would be even harder to kill. Perhaps Jemma would be better off without him. Fitz finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with black capes and masked men and always Jemma screaming his name as she was taken from him. 

Fitz woke early the next morning. He felt exhausted from his fitful night, but at least in the daytime he could take his mind off things. 

His mother quickly informed him as he met her in the corridor that a messenger had already been dispatched to the king and the cavalry, so all they could do at this point was wait. 

After eating, Fitz quickly disappeared down to the lab, not even wanting to be around his mother, preferring to do anything that could occupy his mind and keep his thoughts away from evil sorcerers and secret curses. 

But Fitz clearly hadn’t thought through his hiding place particularly well because it really didn’t take long at all for the one person he really didn’t want to see to find him. 

He knew it was her just at the sound of the footsteps on the stairs. 

He sighed, steeling himself for the inevitable questions.

 “Fitz!” Jemma’s voice, always one of his favorite sounds in the world, now filled him with perturbation. “I’m so glad I found you! We need to talk. Please.” 

Fitz looked up at her please. The concern in her voice, the fear struck him painfully. Fitz hated that Jemma was so worried, so confused and terrified, and, more, he hated that he had caused it. 

“I don’t want to discuss it, Jemma,” Fitz said after a moment, looking back down at the lab table. 

“Fitz.” Jemma was at his side in a moment. “I _know_ you’re hiding something. That… thing… whatever it was, it said it knew you as a baby, that it had talked to your father. What happened, Fitz? What aren’t you telling me?” 

Fitz said nothing. 

Jemma took a deep breath. “And what did he mean by punishment?” 

Fitz flinched slightly at the word. “Drop it, Jemma. Please.” 

The desperation in his voice clearly struck a chord with his friend because she said nothing in reply. 

“We’ve sent a message to my father, and he will sort it when he returns,” Fitz continued, half lying, knowing that even his father would be unable to stop Maveth. 

Jemma clearly didn’t believe him, but she let him be. 

The days of waiting to hear from his father passed painfully slow. Fitz and the queen didn’t know precisely where the king was at this particular moment, but apparently it was more than a few days ride at full speed across the kingdom. 

Jemma was walking on eggshells, clearly trying to avoid upsetting him, but he could tell she was hurt that he wasn’t sharing this with her. At the same time, there was something that amazed Fitz behond anything else. Somehow, despite the awful events of the other night, despite Fitz’s refusal to say anything about Maveth and really his reluctance to talk about anything at all, since he just had too much on his mind, despite all of that Jemma stayed with him. Fitz knew anyone else would have left him, gone away, gotten angry, but Jemma just stayed, a constant presence in his life, as she always was. 

The queen had evidently talked with Bobbi because she never came to find them for archery practice or any other training, and apparently all of their lessons had been cancelled for the time being. So Fitz and Jemma stayed in the lab, quietly, almost holding vigil as Fitz waited to hear something, and Jemma waited for Fitz to say something. He knew, logically, that Jemma should leave him, move on, do something worthwhile, and he wanted to tell her to do that, but he also knew that he would regret pushing her away most of all. He just couldn’t believe that after all of this, Jemma still wanted to be around him, that Jemma was still his best friend. And even as he sat in the lab, hardly speaking, rarely moving, trying to figure out what was going to happen to him, he was, if possible, falling more in love with her. Without her he was alone, but with her, even as he worried over everything, he was comforted. 

But finally, one morning as Fitz walked through the halls from his room to the lab, he heard a shout from one of the guards. 

“Sir Alphonso and Sir John have returned!” 

Fitz instantly abandoned his trajectory and hurried to the front doors of the palace. Sure enough, Mack’s recognizable figure could be seen down talking to a stable boy as he dismounted, allowing the boy to take his horse. Beside him was Jemma’s father. 

Fitz knew Jemma’s father fairly well from all the years Fitz had spent at Jemma's side, but he couldn’t remember spending any time with the older man without Jemma being present. He also couldn’t remember ever seeing the very stoic and mild-mannered man ever look as worried as he did coming to the palace steps beside Mack who seemed equally perturbed, if not more so. 

The queen suddenly appeared at Fitz’s side. 

“Alphonso. John. What news?” She stepped down to meet them. 

Mack shook his head as they stopped in front of her, each man quickly offering the queen a bow. 

“There have been reports of an evil spirit terrorizing a village nearby to where we were,” Jemma’s father said evenly. “It is undoubtedly Maveth. The villagers we spoke to said he appeared in a monstrous cloud in the sky, sucking up houses and livestock. He is certainly more powerful than before; some even say he is invincible.” 

Silence rang out at Sir John’s words. 

Fitz felt sheer terror wash over him. His worst fears had been confirmed. Maveth was not loose in the world, more powerful than ever before, and the kingdom could have to pay the price for Fitz’s stupidity. 

“The king has taken the cavalry to defend the village,” Mack explained. “Perhaps we can discover how he can be defeated.” 

Fitz could hear the despair in Mack’s outwardly optimistic words. 

The queen nodded, as ever the picture of composure. “Thank you both for coming so quickly to tell us the news. I expect Phillip wants more information.” 

Mack nodded his affirmation of her assumption. “He was to follow us here as soon as he could be spared.” 

“Good.” There was no masking the relief in the queen’s expression. “Go see your families, and then we can discuss the situation. And one more thing, John.” 

Jemma’s father looked up, questioning. 

“Jemma knows nothing of Maveth besides what she saw in the woods that night. Can you keep all this-” 

“Secret,” he interrupted with a small smile of understanding, “of course. I have no desire to worry my daughter more than I’m certain she already is. Now, I take my leave.” 

Fitz bolted before Sir John or Mack could come near him. Just having their eyes on him was enough to make him feel horribly guilty. 

Fitz considered going down to the lab, but knowing that Jemma would be off with her father made him reject the idea. As much as he wanted to be alone, the lab wasn’t, in Fitz’s eyes, a place where he could ever be alone. It was his and Jemma’s together; he didn’t want to be there by himself. 

So, instead, he wandered the palace corridors, knowing from years of exploration as a child which ones he could expect to be empty. All he could do was think about how upside down his life had turned in the past few years. At thirteen he had been very smart with a loyal and equally intelligent best friend. They had divided their time between lessons, the lab, and the infirmary, spending all their free time with their friends, not a care in the world. 

And now here he was, sixteen years old, still very smart and still with the same best friend, but now he was cursed, he’d unleashed a powerful sorcerer onto the kingdom, and he had fallen head over heels in love with said best friend, but he couldn’t say a word to her about the curse or even about how he felt for her. Everything had been so wonderful before, but now everything was falling apart. 

“Leo!” 

His mother’s voice snapped him back into reality. Apparently his feet had carried him back to their family chambers. 

“Yes?” 

“John and Alphonso wanted to ask you a few questions.” 

Fitz took a deep breath and nodded, following his mother back to an empty council room. 

Mack and Sir John both bowed as he entered. Sir John’s eyes were sad, but he offered Fitz a small smile. Mack avoided Fitz’s gaze altogether. 

The two men began asking him about the monolith and what exactly Maveth had said and done. Fitz hated having to talk about it again, but he bore it all as best he could.

When the men were finally finished with their questions, Fitz left the room as quickly as possible, not wanting to talk about Maveth anymore. At the far end of the corridor, Jemma called out, clearly looking for him, but Fitz was unable to approach her before Mack grabbed his arm and unceremoniously pulled him into the room next to the one they had been in before. 

“Mack? What?” Fitz asked, confused. 

“YOU SAID YOU’D BE CAREFUL!” Mack was yelling at him, louder and angrier than Fitz had ever heard him yell. “I was worried about you and Jemma, and you said you’d be careful! What were you _thinking_ not telling the queen or Bobbi or Margaret or Isobel about this? A dark stone monolith appears from nowhere in the middle of the woods and you don’t mention it to anyone? You both could have been killed, or worse! You’re a child, Fitz, regardless of how brilliant you are. How could you have been so foolish? And now look what’s happened. You heard what Maveth’s doing. People are _dying_ ; don’t you understand that? You need to realize that your actions have consequences; you can’t just do anything you want.” He stopped, shaking his head, his voice calmer now, but his eyes filled with nothing but disappointment and even disdain. “This is on you, Fitz. This is _your_ fault.” 

He stormed out of the room, leaving Fitz standing there alone with no idea what to do. He deserved it, everything Mack had said and more. Mack, his father, Sir John, the entire cavalry had spent their careers searching for Maveth just to save Fitz, to stop the curse, and how had Fitz repaid them? He released Maveth’s helpers. He made Maveth more powerful. He had ruined everything. This was all his fault.

The door to the chamber opened hesitantly. 

“Fitz?” 

Of course it was Jemma. 

Fitz sniffed, realizing that he was very close to crying. 

Jemma quickly came over to him. “Oh, Fitz.” She reached her hand out to his arm tentatively. “Tell me why Mack was so upset. Please, just let me help you.” 

Fitz shook his head, completely and utterly ashamed, tears coming to cloud his vision. 

He felt Jemma move toward him and wrap her arms around him. 

Fitz sank into the embrace, letting himself cry in Jemma’s arms. This was different than when he had broken down to his mother in his father’s study after that night. That night his mother had held him because she was so grateful he was alive. Now, Jemma was holding him without knowing anything at all. She just saw he needed someone, and she was there for him, as she always was. She was too good for him, and he was just going to hurt her, to ruin everything, just like he had done with the monolith. 

When Fitz finally stepped back, sniffling, to dry his eyes, Jemma offered him a small smile, her expression nothing but understanding. “Lab?” she asked hesitantly. 

Fitz wanted to smile and say yes, to let things be okay with Jemma, but that wasn’t fair to her. He didn’t deserve her in his life, and it would be better for her if he stayed out of hers 

Fitz shook his head. “I just want to be alone.”

Jemma’s smile faltered at his words, clearly hurt that he was pushing her away, but almost instantly she nodded her understanding, squeezing his hand and leaving the room. 

Fitz ran his hand through his hair. He had no idea what he was doing. He sank down against the wall, deciding that this was as good a place as any to spend the rest of the afternoon. 

But it wasn’t long before his solitude was interrupted. 

“There you are.” 

It was Bobbi. Fitz was immediately worried that she was going to yell at him like Mack had, but one glance at his friend’s face told him she wasn’t angry; she was just sad. 

“I’m so sorry, Fitz.” 

Fitz hadn’t expected that. “Sorry for what?” He got up off the floor, confused. 

“That you and Jemma had to go through that,” she replied with a small smile. “That Maveth is a horrible monster. And that I didn’t try to figure out where you two have been running off to for the last two months. I’m the one who spends the most time with you guys; I should have realized.” 

“It’s not your fault, Bobbi,” Fitz quickly brushed aside his friend’s words. “I should have been smarter, actually thought about it, like Mack said.” He turned his eyes to the ground remembering what the knight had shouted at him that morning. 

“Mack didn’t mean all that.” 

Fitz looked up incredulously. “He sounded like he meant it.” 

Bobbi sighed. “It’s just the whole idea of Maveth that really upsets Mack because of what happened to Eoin, you know, Margaret’s first husband. Maveth tore them all apart. Eoin was John’s best friend; they were like brothers, Margaret always told me. I was just a girl when it all happened, but I know it really hurt Margaret. Mack would do anything for her; that’s why he was so angry.” 

Fitz felt somehow worse as he realized that he hadn’t seen Lady Mackenzie or Dame Isobel since the night Maveth returned. He should have realized that this affected them far more than anyone else. 

“It’s all my fault, Bobbi,” Fitz said quietly, staring at his feet. 

“No,” Bobbi said, her voice even and assured. “It’s Maveth’s fault. Don’t blame yourself.” 

She turned quietly and left him alone with his thoughts. 

It was two more days before the king finally returned, but even when he did, he was alone. 

“I left the men at the village,” the king said quietly to his wife as they embraced in the palace foyer. He seemed utterly exhausted. “But it seems there’s an abandoned fortress from the last war that Maveth is using as base. I’m certain he has the capacity to kill the entire town instantly, but he’s just toying with us, drawing our attention there. He must have some larger plan.”

He finally spotted Fitz almost hiding behind the stairway. 

“Leo!” Within a few strides, the king had pulled him in for a hug. “Oh, thank God you’re alive, my son,” he spoke softly. “We almost lost you.” 

Fitz hugged his father back, so grateful that he wasn’t angry. With Mack’s words still echoing in his mind, Fitz didn’t think he could handle anyone else yelling at him just now. 

Fitz heard footsteps and looked up to see Mack and Sir John had joined them. They both bowed to the king. 

The king sighed, releasing Fitz. “We must go see this monolith for ourselves. I will rest here a night, and then we will return to the fight and hope things have not fared too poorly in our absence.” The king looked back down at Fitz. “How far do we follow the path into the woods?” 

“Half an hour,” Fitz said quietly, trying to avoid Mack’s gaze. “Do you want me to show you?” 

His father shook his head. “No. I don’t want you near that thing ever again. It’s too dangerous.” He squeezed Fitz’s shoulder gently and departed, Mack and Sir John trailing in his wake. 

Fitz made himself scarce for the rest of the day, feeling ashamed of himself, even without disappointment from his father. Fitz was certain that everyone blamed him, as they should. But even though he knew he deserved it all, he still didn’t want to have to see their side-glances and feel their unspoken judgment of him.

The king, Mack, and Sir John left the next morning, as planned, but before they rode away, the king took Fitz aside. 

“I want you to promise me that you won’t go near that thing again,” he said. 

“Of course I won’t,” Fitz said immediately. He wouldn’t have set foot near the monolith again even if he wanted to, which he definitely didn’t.

“I also don’t want you leaving the castle anymore unless you stay within sight of the guards. And let your mother know what you’re up to; I don’t want something like this to happen again.” 

Fitz sighed. “I don’t think anything like this _can_ happen again. There’s nothing worse than this.” 

The king stared at him seriously. “Don’t ever say things like that, especially because there _is_ one more worse thing that could happen.” 

Fitz looked up at him, confused. 

“We could forget you,” the king explained. “And that would be more horrible than anything.” 

Fitz reached out to give his father a hug, which he returned quickly. 

“Don’t fall in love while I’m away,” the king said with a small laugh. “Really, don’t kiss anyone, just to be sure.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes at his father. Did he _really_ not know about Jemma? 

But the king had already crossed the room to say goodbye to his wife. 

Fitz felt a hand on his shoulder. Mack. 

Fitz looked up warily. 

Mack’s expression was far different from the anger of the other day. There was still some disappointment, perhaps, but more than anything it was sadness and even regret. 

“I apologize for raising my voice,” Mack said, his voice soft. “I was worried about Margaret, and I took it out on you. None of this is your fault; it’s all Maveth’s. _He_ cursed you. _He’s_ attacking those villagers. _He_ killed Eoin. It was wrong of me to blame you for something you had no control over. Please forgive me, Fitz.” His eyes held such remorse as he looked down at Fitz. 

“Of course, Mack,” Fitz said instantly. “There’s nothing to forgive.” 

Mack smiled slightly and clapped Fitz on the shoulder. “We’re on your side, all of us.” 

Fitz nodded, and Mack bowed before walking over to join the king. 

“Take care of my daughter while I’m gone, won’t you?” Sir John was smiling down at him now. 

Fitz stood straighter. “Yes, sir. Of course.” 

The older man smiled and took his leave, but Fitz couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized that he had barely seen Jemma since she had left him in the empty council room the day Mack and Sir John had arrived. 

Fitz and the queen waved the men off, watching them ride quickly out into the reaches of the kingdom. 

Fitz turned to his mother. “Father asked me not to fall in love while he’s away. Does he… does he really not know?” 

The queen flashed him a smile. “I doubt he’s thought about it, he’s been so wrapped up in all this. No, I don’t believe he knows.” 

“Oh.” 

Fitz wasn’t sure what else to say, so he simply nodded to his mother and left, deciding it was time to head back to the lab. 

Jemma found him almost immediately, as she always did. 

Fitz smiled at her entrance, he and Mack’s reconciliation having given him some peace of mind, but her unusual expression quickly drew his concern. 

“Jemma?” 

“Fitz, why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” Jemma looked determined, standing in the doorway as though she wasn’t going to let him out of the lab until he answered her questions. “My father was here, and he told me nothing, and now he’s gone, and I feel as though I know even less. You’re all hiding something from me.” 

“Jemma, stop,” Fitz said softly, knowing this would only make things worse. 

“Why don’t you trust me?” 

The accusation hung in the air for a moment. 

“Jemma, you know I trust you more than anyone in the world,” Fitz said, upset that Jemma would think anything different. 

“Then why-” 

“It’s not about that,” Fitz cut her off. 

“Seems to me like that’s exactly what it’s about,” Jemma fired back, her eyes narrowing.

Fitz took a deep breath. “Jemma, it’s nothing to do with you. We don’t want you to have to be involved.” 

She took a step toward him. “But what if I want to be involved? Fitz, it’s killing me not knowing what’s going on, not knowing how I can help you.” 

Fitz turned away from her. “It doesn’t matter, Jemma. Why do you feel like you have to help me?” 

“Because I’m in love with you!” The words ripped out of her. 

Fitz inhaled sharply. There it was, out in the open, everything Fitz had been dreaming about. He loved Jemma, and Jemma loved him back. In any other world, it would have been perfect. 

But they were here. And it wasn’t. 

“Fitz, please say something,” Jemma’s voice was pleading. 

Fitz finally shook his head. “I can’t, Jemma.” And he walked out of the lab. 

He glanced up for just a moment as he passed her. The heartbreak and pain etched in her face as she stood there in the lab, a single tear dripping down her cheek, almost made him stop and reach out to her, almost made him brush the tear from her cheek and hold her in his arms. 

But he had to leave her. He had to let her go. It was for the best. It was all he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment letting me know how you're liking things so far!!
> 
> New chapters posted every Friday.


	9. A Story About Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than usual, but it's still Friday as I'm posting this, so at least there's that. We're about halfway through now, so there's still plenty to go. (and just a bit over a month until we get back from hiatus!!!)
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you that have been reading this and leaving kudos and comments and all that. It really makes everything worth it hearing from you guys. <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Fitz didn’t see Jemma for days. He knew he would have at least run into her or seen her from a distance somewhere if she had been merely avoiding him, so Fitz was left with the conclusion that she hadn’t left her family’s chambers since she had confessed her love for Fitz. 

Fitz knew he had done the right thing in letting her go, but that didn’t stop him from replaying her words over and over in his head. He was haunted by the pain in her eyes as he left the lab. In all their years together, he’d seen Jemma teased and insulted by others at the palace - he’d even hurt her himself more times than he’d like to remember - but never in his life had he seen Jemma as upset as she had been standing there as Fitz passed by her. Her face, the single tear – it was all he could think about. And it was making him miserable. 

Some days he wandered the palace, but more and more often he took to haunting his father’s study where his mother was holed up trying to organize resources and debating about calling for aid, trading correspondence with the king as fast as was physically possible from the village across the kingdom where the cavalry was currently stationed. Fitz, with his decision to let Jemma move on, knew that this was going to be the rest of his life – ruling the kingdom, fighting Maveth – so he resigned himself to his fate. 

The queen would occasionally raise her eyebrows at Fitz’s entrance into the study, clearly thinking his solitary behavior rather odd, but that curiosity was quickly discarded in favor of enlisting Fitz’s help and advice.

“Maveth took the village church,” his mother said one morning by way of greeting. 

“The whole thing?” Fitz replied incredulously as he stepped through the doorway, sitting down across from her. 

The queen nodded. “It’s all gone.” 

Fitz ran a hand through his hair. “What can we do?” 

His mother sighed. “Call for aid, maybe? Your father’s still not sure.” 

Fitz understood why. The obvious ally to send for would be King Grant, but the king and queen, and Fitz for that matter, weren’t completely sure he would be the most dependable of friends. Fitz could easily see a promise of troops from Grant going unfulfilled, though the prospect of Daisy coming to stay was not the least bit displeasing. Except that she’d ask about Jemma, and Fitz didn’t want to have to talk about why he was keeping Jemma as far away from him as possible. Daisy wouldn’t accept the excuse that it was for Jemma’s protection, that Jemma didn’t need to be involved with Fitz. So what if it was true love? Fitz told himself over and over. Jemma would be better off finding someone else who wasn’t cursed, someone who didn’t hurt her at every turn. Someone who wasn’t him. 

So they didn’t write to Grant, at least for the time being. But that was just one of many things they had to deal with, and the queen was still concerned about Fitz himself. 

“How are you holding up with everything, Fitz?” the queen asked one afternoon as they gave themselves a brief break from pouring over maps and lists of natural resources. “I know this whole thing is worse for you than anyone else.” 

Fitz offered his mother a half smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

“And what about Jemma?” the queen continued. “I haven’t seen her around in quite some time.” 

Fitz instantly pretended to be absorbed in merchant supply report he had in front of him, merely shrugging in response. 

The queen didn’t believe him, of course, but she apparently understood, not pressing him any further.

After that incident, Fitz had spent more time alone, often hanging around the section of the palace that led to the quarters of the rest of the court. He had a prepared, and not entirely untrue, excuse that he was looking for Bobbi (who he really wouldn’t have minded seeing) in case he ever met anyone, but he never did. This was both a relief, in that he didn’t have to clumsily explain himself, and a source of dismay, since his real reason for being in this part of the castle was to search for any sign of Jemma. He knew it was stupid to torture himself like this, going out of his way for just the possibility of so much as seeing her, but he missed her more than anything. He kept finding himself almost knocking on her door to beg Lady Simmons to let him in to see Jemma, but then he would remember his actual predicament and move away, his eyes always fixed in the direction of the door that let to Jemma. 

Eventually it got so bad that Fitz didn’t even bother with the pretense of searching for Bobbi, choosing instead to lean against the wall just around the corner from the object of his attention, knowing that he shouldn’t even be there, but staying nonetheless, needing to know that Jemma was okay. 

“Fitz.” 

Fitz jumped, startled by the voice since he hadn’t seen anyone in this corridor since he had started keeping vigil here days ago. He turned quickly and found Dame Isobel staring at him, her eyebrows raised. 

“Looking for someone, are we?” she asked, clearly knowing exactly what was going on. 

“Bobbi,” Fitz replied instantly, though he knew that he stood less of a chance of Dame Isobel believing that than anyone else. 

Dame Isobel blinked at him. “Bobbi? Really?” 

Fitz nodded, now hesitating slightly. 

“Funny,” Dame Isobel said, moving closer to Fitz, “from the fact that you’ve been standing in that same spot staring at the door to the Simmons’ quarters for at least half an hour now, I would have guessed you’re looking for Jemma.” 

Fitz stared down at his feet. 

He heard Dame Isobel sigh. “Come with me, Fitz. We need to talk.” 

Fitz found no other option but to follow her.

Dame Isobel led him back to her parlor. The last time he had been there, not too long after the full cavalry had left, before all the business with the monolith, felt like a lifetime ago. Suddenly he remembered Dame Isobel’s connection to the evil sorcerer. He was the reason that her son, Fitz’s namesake, was dead. 

“I’m so sorry, Dame Isobel,” Fitz said as the older woman took a seat on the chaise. 

She gave him a look of genuine confusion. “Sorry for what, Fitz?” 

“For Maveth,” Fitz replied, sinking into the ottoman. “For bringing him back. You of all people don’t deserve that. He’s caused enough tragedy already.” 

“Oh, Fitz.” Dame Isobel quickly switched seats to be next to Fitz, taking the spot on the ottoman where Jemma usually sat. “It wasn’t your fault. He was going to come back eventually. I’m rather glad he’s back in the open. At least we know where he is now.” 

“Killing people,” Fitz replied, “that’s where he is.” 

“And soon your father and the cavalry or someone will stop him,” Dame Isobel reassured him, sounding far more confident than Fitz was. 

“But what if they can’t?” Fitz said, his head in his hands. “He could destroy the entire kingdom. And I’d never…” He trailed off, his thoughts with Jemma. 

After a moment Dame Isobel spoke. “Can I tell you about the night that Maveth killed my Eoin?” 

Fitz looked up, unsure as to why Dame Isobel wanted to talk about this. He nodded hesitantly. 

Dame Isobel gave him a small smile and began. “All my other children had spread far and wide across the kingdom, but Eoin had brought his bride back to the castle to be part of the king’s cavalry and live at the castle. Margaret was wonderful. She and Eoin were young, but they were perfect for each other. Unflinchingly loyal and just a bit reckless. Hotheaded and incredibly passionate. Always arguing and shouting, but they loved it, and God help anyone who angered either one of them because they’d face the combined wrath of the pair together.” 

Fitz frowned slightly. This account of Lady Mackenzie was very different from the almost second mother he had grown up with. She and Mack had always been level-headed, kind, steady, dependable, but his Lady Margaret Mackenzie was nothing like the Lady Margaret Fitz that Dame Isobel was describing. 

Dame Isobel offered him a small smile, clearly understanding his confusion. 

“After we lost Eoin, Margaret… Margaret had a lot of trouble getting through it. She thought more and laughed less. She grew cautious and worried and rarely spoke. If it hadn’t been for Mack, I don’t know if she would have come back to us.” She trailed off but then shook her head, redirecting her thoughts. “In any case, Margaret and Eoin had been married about six months when the king and queen had a beautiful baby boy, and all of us in the palace were invited to the christening. It was a fairly small affair – the queen didn’t want a big fuss – but Eoin, Margaret, and I were there, along with Margaret’s sister Agnes and her husband John Simmons, Eoin’s best friend. Agnes had a baby herself not two weeks later.” 

Fitz smiled automatically at the thought of baby Jemma. 

“And the event was going along very well,” Dame Isobel continued. “I had never seen the king and queen so happy. But just before the king could announce the name of his child, a vortex filled with sand and debris appeared in the middle of the hall. I suppose I don’t have to tell you what that looks like.” 

Fitz shook his head, easily recalling the image of Maveth in the woods. 

“And everyone was terrified. You were across the room from your parents, and Maveth was between them and you. Your parents begged; they had no idea what to do. Many of us had heard stories of the sorcerer, including the king, but no one had seen him before. After Maveth taunted your parents, he turned back to you, and that’s when my Eoin did what he always did. He stood in front of Maveth, his sword outstretched and shaking in his arms, since he wasn’t quite the practiced swordsman the rest of the knights were. Margaret called out to him, but he refused to step back. He was reckless and foolhardy and inexperienced, but so brave. Lance always reminded me a bit of him when he was younger, getting himself into difficult situations, not quite able to keep up with the others, but the biggest heart in the world. Of course Lance is more than a proper knight now, which makes me wonder what would have happened to my Eoin if he’d been able to…” She trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. 

She shook her head slightly and resumed the story. “So my Eoin faced down Maveth, and Maveth laughed at him and then turned back to you, and Eoin… Eoin charged at him, but Maveth was ready and he pulled him into his vortex and when the dust settled and the wind died down, Eoin was gone. I knew then he wasn’t coming back, but it took a few moments for Margaret to understand. She… I’ve never seen someone so broken, so desolate. She loved him just as much as I did. And as she was crying, Maveth gave you his curse. But he made a mistake.” 

Fitz looked up at Dame Isobel. “What do you mean? What mistake?” 

Dame Isobel smiled softly. “He used true love without understanding the consequences. There’s a reason true love always breaks curses and doesn’t cause them. It’s a force of good, not evil. When I was a girl, my grandmother told me a story of an evil sorcerer who had cursed a young girl that as soon as she said a particular word, she would never be able to speak again. This girl grew up and one day accidentally said this word and instantly became mute. But a boy who had loved her all her life, one day kissed her, and suddenly she could speak again. That sorcerer was, as my grandmother told it, a faceless figure always accompanied by the wind.” 

“Maveth,” Fitz breathed.

Dame Isobel nodded. “I believe this is why he tried to work around this obstacle by having true love be your curse. But he was incredibly stupid. True love may be corrupted by evil, but if the love is strong enough, it can make it through anything, even this.” 

“Is that story true?” Fitz asked. “Did you tell my father?” 

Dame Isobel sighed. “I’ve always thought it to be true, but your father found no real evidence. He’s always been skeptical, and it could be just a story, but I’ve seen true love many times in my life, and I believe that no curse can control it or stop it. A curse is no match for true love.” 

“But you can’t be sure,” Fitz countered. “There’s no way to know if things will be okay!”

“No there isn’t,” the older woman replied. “But that’s no reason not to try. Think of my Eoin. I’d never seen him happier than he was in those months he had with Margaret. Neither one of them would have traded them for the world.” 

“But look what happened after Maveth destroyed everything! I can’t hurt her like that!” Fitz threw his head in his hands. 

“And who says you aren’t hurting her by pushing her away?” Dame Isobel said delicately. “Who says this is for the best for either one of you?” 

Fitz didn’t look up. 

“I’ve known you for your entire life, Fitz,” she said, her voice soft, “and I’ve known Jemma for her entire life too. Neither one of you will ever be happy without the other. You made sure that Jemma stayed with you when the king hired your first governess, you refused to take lessons without her, you went to work with her in the infirmary, you learn together, study together, train together; you’ve barely left her side in years, and yet you both still act as though every time you see each other it’s like you’re seeing the sunlight for the first time. It’s obvious that this is meant to be. It’s been obvious for a long time. She means more to you than anything in this world, Fitz, and you mean the same to her.” 

“But I can’t.” Fitz finally looked up. “It’s not fair to her. And I can’t tell her about the curse. She doesn’t need to worry about that. It’s my burden.” 

“Oh, Fitz,” Dame Isobel replied, almost rolling her eyes. “I think what’s unfair to Jemma is that she has to go on thinking that you don’t feel the same way she does because you left her crying in the lab.” 

Fitz’s eyes went wide. “She told you?” 

Dame Isobel nodded. “She talked, I listened. I didn’t want to speak for you, not that Jemma would have believed me even if I did. Which is why you need to talk to her yourself. Don’t be afraid of this. Don’t let the curse destroy your chance at a happily ever after.” 

“But it’s not safe for-”

“I think Jemma can decide what she’s comfortable with for herself, Fitz,” Dame Isobel interrupted him. “This is Jemma’s fate as much as yours; let her make the choice; don’t decide for her.” 

“Even if I wanted to, I haven’t seen her in days,” Fitz said, quickly making an excuse. “She hasn’t left her room.” 

Dame Isobel stared at him. “That’s easily remediable.” She sighed. “Think things over. This is important, Fitz.” 

Fitz sighed. “I know.” 

And Fitz did think about it. He left Dame Isobel’s parlor and paced through the castle halls, his thoughts wandering to all the mornings of lessons and training he had spent with Jemma, each one doing better for having the other there, the afternoons in the lab where even the silence felt like home, the evenings in someone or other’s parlor where they would share a seat for easier conversation, the late-night walks back from the observatory, laughing and pointing up at the stars. Jemma was part of every aspect of his life, and the idea that he would have to give that up was horrible. Of course he wanted to protect her, but perhaps Dame Isobel was right – maybe they could figure it out themselves, maybe it was worth the risk, maybe he should let Jemma decide for herself. 

As Fitz came around a corner, he saw the door to the lab close softly, as though the person shutting it was trying to stay hidden. 

Fitz knew instantly it had to be Jemma.

Here was his decision: he could go down and talk to her and tell her everything, or he could keep walking and let her go. The latter option was safer for both parties involved, but with the thought that Jemma might be down in the lab crying, Fitz instantly made his choice, following his best friend down into the basement. 

Jemma’s back was to him when he reached the lab. Her shoulders were tensed, clearly knowing that he was there. 

“Jemma,” Fitz said softly. 

She turned around, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes. 

Fitz knew he had made the right decision. He was never going to make her feel like this again. 

“Fitz, it’s fine,” Jemma started speaking before Fitz could say anything. “I understand that you don’t feel the same. I mean, I’m not royalty or even higher tier nobility, so really you have every reason not to like me like that. I’m sorry I even brought it up; it was stupid. Can we please just try to be friends again, Fitz? Because I-” 

“Jemma, I’m cursed,” Fitz blurted out, needing Jemma to stop her horribly inaccurate and honestly rather painful train of thought. 

Jemma blinked at him, clearly not expecting that response. “That seems a tad dramatic, Fitz,” she said, sounding more like herself than she had before. “This situation isn’t ideal, I admit, but-” 

“No, I mean an evil sorcerer cast a spell on me when I was a baby,” Fitz interrupted again, speaking quickly. “I’m _actually_ cursed.” 

The lab was silent. 

“Oh.” 

Fitz sighed, feeling relieved for having gotten that off his chest. “My father asked me to keep it a secret, but if telling you is what it takes to make this okay, then I’ll do it.” 

Jemma took a hesitant step toward him. “You’re actually cursed?” 

Fitz offered her a half smile. “I am. You met Maveth in the woods the other night.” 

Jemma’s eyes widened in realization. “No.” 

Fitz nodded. “That’s him. His name means ‘death by punishment;’ that’s what he does. He can sort of see the future, and apparently I was to be his ‘salvation’ and his ‘destruction.’ Or that’s what he said when he came to my christening and killed Dame Isobel’s son, Lady Mackenzie’s first husband.” 

“Eoin Fitz,” Jemma filled in, knowing the reason behind Fitz’s name as well as he did.

Fitz nodded. “Eoin Fitz. I did the salvation bit when I opened the monolith, so here’s where the curse comes in. After he killed Eoin, Maveth said I would be brilliant and successful, but at true love’s kiss, everyone will forget me and my true love will instantly despise me.” Fitz took a deep breath, preparing himself for his confession. “So that’s why I said I can’t be with you. It would ruin everything.” 

Jemma stared at him for a moment, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. “Because I’m your… true love?” Her words were shy. 

Fitz shrugged, a matching shy smile appearing on his face. “Who else would it be?” 

Jemma and Fitz smiled at each other, both unconsciously moving together. 

“So how do we get rid of this curse then?” Jemma said finally, the steely determination in her eyes the same look that came with every new project the pair tackled together. 

Fitz’s smile fell. “We have to kill Maveth, and he’s more powerful than ever.” He turned his gaze to the floor. “He’s been terrorizing villagers out in the far reaches of the kingdom; that’s where the cavalry is. That’s what they’ve been doing all these years, searching for information on Maveth, on how to kill him, and they’ve never found anything about how to destroy him in all their years of searching.” Fitz sighed. “It’s hopeless, Jemma.” 

“Nonsense.” 

Fitz looked up and was faced with a very smug looking Jemma. 

“You know why?” she asked, smiling wider. 

“Why?” 

“Because your father has never had the two of us working on this, has he?” she said, moving closer. 

Fitz closed the last of the distance between them. “No, he hasn’t.” 

“And we have a much larger incentive to figure this out than the cavalry, don’t we?” she continued, almost smirking. 

“Yeah, we do.” Fitz had never loved Jemma more than he did in this moment. 

She wrapped her arms around him, and Fitz eagerly returned the hug. 

“I love you,” Fitz said softly. “I didn’t say that before.” 

He felt Jemma smile into his neck. “I love you too. We’ll figure this out, Fitz. I know we will.” 

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair. 

“You have no idea how hard it is not to kiss you right now,” Jemma said after a moment. 

Fitz laughed. “And now you know how I’ve felt for all these months.” 

“Months?” Jemma moved back to see his face, her eyes bright. 

“Since the ball,” Fitz replied sheepishly. 

A wide grin spread across Jemma’s face. “And I thought you hated balls.” 

“Well I do,” Fitz defended himself, “but parts of this last one were… enjoyable.” 

Jemma raised her eyebrows. “Enjoyable?”

“Or more than that.” 

Jemma smiled and leaned her head back on Fitz’s shoulder. 

Fitz held her closer and couldn’t help but think, just for a moment, that maybe Dame Isobel was right about true love being stronger than the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters posted every Friday.


	10. A Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million apologies for the delay. Important stuff at school and then midterms, but, since I'm hope on break for the week, I'll definitely be able to have the next chapter up Friday, as usual.
> 
> Enjoy!

Fitz and Jemma settled into the new normal of their relationship almost immediately. Really it wasn’t too different from the relationship they’d had before: working together on a project, spending all their time together, talking almost exclusively to each other. But at the same time, things were definitely not the same. 

The next morning when he had gone in search of Jemma, the pair having decided the night before, amid smiles and something close to giggling, to spend the next day in the library, he had been greeted by a hug and the widest smile he’d ever seen on Jemma’s face. He had taken Jemma’s hand as they walked down the corridor to the library and somehow that smile had grown even wider. Fitz found himself standing too close to Jemma as they searched through the library shelves, and when they eventually found some books that looked at least relatively promising, they ended up reading through them together in an oversized armchair that fit them both very cozily. And later that afternoon, after a break for food, when the pair had settled back into their chair, Fitz had found himself growing rather drowsy and had curled up next to Jemma, his head leaning against hers, and had let himself take a quick nap, or at least close his eyes, Jemma, still reading, smiling contently beside him. 

Eventually he actually did fall asleep, and Jemma did too apparently because the next thing Fitz knew, he was looking up at very smug looking Bobbi who whispered to him that the queen and Lady Simmons were looking for them and that it was time for dinner. Bobbi quickly left the library, grinning widely, leaving Fitz to gently nudge Jemma awake. She was momentarily embarrassed at having fallen asleep on Fitz’s shoulder, but as Fitz moved a strand of hair out of her face, she smiled shyly at him. Fitz walked Jemma back to her room first, not wanting to let go of her hand. 

The queen looked at Fitz appraisingly as he joined her in the dining room, but Fitz just asked her about her day with a dazed smile on his face, his thoughts with Jemma after really the happiest afternoon he could remember having in a long time, even with the specter of Maveth looming over his shoulder. Fitz knew that every day couldn’t be like this; they could be as blissfully in love as they wanted to be, but it was unsustainable as long as Maveth was around. But for today, it was enough. 

Fitz and Jemma met up later that night, sneaking off to Daisy’s alcove since it was too cold to go outside. The pair curled up together and made murmured plans to speak with Dame Isobel the next day and try to put the pieces together. The king hadn’t known about the monolith, so maybe that would make the difference. 

Dame Isobel greeted the pair of them with a knowing smile as they knocked on her door the following day, hand-in-hand, matching smiles on their faces as they sat even closer together than usual on their ottoman. 

Dame Isobel told them everything she had ever heard about Maveth, about curses, about true love (the last topic with eliciting lots of stolen glances between Fitz and Jemma with small smiles and flushed cheeks). There wasn’t much more to it than what she had already told Fitz, but the one additional piece of information they discovered was that these stories about sorcerers, Maveth particularly, were more common than anywhere in a town where Dame Isobel had grown up, three day’s ride into the kingdom. 

“That’s near the old monastery isn’t it?” Jemma asked, examining a map that Fitz had brought from the library. 

Dame Isobel nodded. “It is. All the town records were kept there. It’s one of the largest libraries in the kingdom.” 

Jemma turned to Fitz, her eyebrows raised in silent question. 

Fitz nodded. “We have to go there. Do you think my mother will let us? My father told me not to even venture far into the grounds, let alone go out into the kingdom.” 

Jemma shrugged. “She might approve if we bring Bobbi with us. Any information we find will help the king, so what do we have to lose?” 

Fitz sighed. “You know what.” 

Jemma wrapped her arms around him instantly. “Oh, Fitz,” she said softy, “we’re not worrying about that, okay?” 

Fitz leaned into Jemma’s embrace before he finally turned back to her. “Okay.” 

And so they said their goodbyes to Dame Isobel and went off in search of Bobbi and the queen. 

“Bobbi,” Jemma began when they finally found their friend, “we need to go to the old monastery out in the kingdom-” 

“-and there’s no way my mother will let us go alone-” Fitz jumped in. 

“-so would you be willing to come with us?” Jemma finished. 

Bobbi stifled a laugh, presumably at Fitz and Jemma finishing each other’s sentences, just like old times, but then she smiled. “Of course, if the queen allows it. Have you spoken with her?” 

Fitz shook his head. “I haven’t seen her since last night.” 

Bobbi flashed him a knowing smile and a wink, reminding him that she had seen he and Jemma sleeping in the same armchair together in the library the previous afternoon. “Shall we go now then?” 

Fitz debated for a moment about whether or not to take Jemma’s hand as they walked toward the king’s study with Bobbi, but he quickly decided that he really didn’t care, so he threaded his fingers through Jemma’s, receiving a wide smile in return. 

Bobbi sighed as they turned down a corridor. 

Fitz and Jemma looked over at her curiously. 

“Lance is gonna be so mad that he’s missing the opportunity to tease you guys,” Bobbi explained, grinning.

Fitz smiled shyly over at Jemma who beamed back at him, squeezing his hand lightly. 

The queen, as expected, was very hesitant about the idea, knowing that the king had visited the monastery many times himself and that he really wanted Fitz to stay at the castle. But at the same time, Fitz and Jemma had new information that could change everything. It could be the only way to defeat Maveth. 

“Fine,” she said finally, “you may go. But only if you take additional guards with you.” This she directed at Bobbi who nodded seriously. 

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“And the king and I have decided to write to King Grant,” she added, turning back to Fitz. 

Fitz sighed and nodded. “That’s probably for the best.” 

Jemma looked between Fitz and the queen. “Does that mean Daisy’s coming then?” 

The queen offered Jemma a smile. “I’ll write in the letter that Daisy is cordially invited to stay with us and would be most welcome to remain as long as she wishes.” 

Fitz and Jemma smiled widely at each other. The prospect of seeing their friend for the first time in months was wonderful, even in spite of the circumstances.

And so, the following day, a letter was sent to the neighboring kingdom and hurried preparations were made for Fitz and Jemma’s departure. The pair said their farewells to Lady Mackenzie, to whom Fitz quietly apologized for Maveth, at which point Lady Mackenzie pulled him into a tight hug, told him there was nothing to forgive and that he must stay safe and take care of himself and Jemma. 

“You figure out how to destroy him, Fitz,” Lady Mackenzie whispered to him. “You and Jemma deserve to be happy.” 

Fitz nodded seriously, grateful for her understanding and encouragement, and barely surprised at all that she knew about he and Jemma, and then he left Lady Mackenzie to say goodbye to her niece. 

Then he turned to Dame Isobel who was smiling down at him, her eyes not worried like Lady Mackenzie’s were, but content, happy. 

“Remember true love, Fitz,” she said softly as she embraced him. “Never forget it.” 

Fitz smiled as she released him. “I won’t.” 

And soon they were off. They were all on horseback, having decided that a carriage would be too bulky for the poor roads that lay out in the kingdom. It was cold, but not bitterly so, their coats and mittens and hats serving to effectively block out the winter weather, at least for the present. Along with Fitz, Jemma, and Bobbi, were four guards, helmeted, silent, and significantly shorter than some of the knights out with the cavalry, at least two of them, Jemma observed quietly to Fitz, being shorter than Lance, which was a definite accomplishment; even _Bobbi_ was taller than Lance. 

The journey took less than the three days advertised, but not much less. They spent nights at side inns, Fitz always staying as out of sight as possible so no one knew the prince himself had left the palace and was out in the kingdom. The news could easily travel to Maveth and no one particularly wanted to find out what would happen then. And of course having the prince around would quickly attract robbers, not that they had brought anything of value with them except the map from the library. But finally they arrived. 

The monastery was old and sparsely populated, just a small contingent of monks keeping up with the library and, during the summer months, the garden. 

They were extremely welcoming of the small band, quickly providing them with a hot meal and quarters for as long as they were needed, Fitz by himself, Bobbi with Jemma, and the guards together, with one posted outside Fitz and Jemma’s rooms during the night, just as a precaution, not because they believed any harm would actually befall them at the monastery. 

Almost immediately the following morning, Fitz, Jemma, and Bobbi began scouring the library. Despite the relatively small monk population, the sheer amount of books and papers in the room – records, letters, translations of classical authors, anything – was enormous. 

A kind, older monk showed them how the library was organized, or how it was supposed to be organized, some of the shelves having become mixed up over the years, and then they got to work. 

The made no progress as the days went on, but Fitz loved the work. He and Jemma read side by side in front of the fire that kept the entire room warm, from the monks at their desks on one side of the room to Bobbi and two of the still-helmeted guards who roamed the shelves to the final pair of guards that stood at the doorway at the far end. Fitz was content. Occasionally, he would start thinking about Maveth and grow worried, but a small smile or a hand on his arm from Jemma instantly drained away his desperation and worry. Jemma was with him and everything would be okay. 

A week went by with no luck, and Fitz was beginning to get discouraged. The monks were ever-accommodating, graciously sharing their food and rooms and library, but Fitz was becoming more and more anxious. His thoughts more and more frequently returned to his father who he, naturally, hadn’t heard from since they left the palace. He imagined the king, fifteen years younger, no tiny streaks of grey in his hair, fewer wrinkles on his brow, more hope in his eyes, sitting where Fitz sat, pouring through book after book, trying to find something, anything, about Maveth. The curse might not have technically been enacted yet, but certainly almost the entirety of Fitz’s life had already been a curse. 

“Jemma, perhaps we should…” Fitz trailed off as he noticed that Jemma was no longer next to him. “Jemma?” 

“Over here Fitz!” Jemma’s voice carried from behind a shelf. “I’ve found it!” 

“Found what?” Fitz followed Jemma’s voice to where she was kneeling down in front of a stack of loose papers, letters, Fitz gathered. 

“Look!” She excitedly shoved a scrap of parchment in his face. 

Fitz blinked, still extremely confused, as Jemma pulled the paper back to herself and began to read it aloud.

_“‘My dear Brother,_

_“‘I have wanted to write you for quite some time to ask after the harvest and your family, but things have become so busy here that I haven’t had the time. Our harvest was poor, though we had plenty of sun and rain and the soil is quite fertile. Bless the Lord that we had much left over from last year, so neither we nor our tenants will go hungry this winter. Father and I went to examine the fields to determine what had happened, and that is when we found it. It was a rock as dark as night, so large it would have scarcely made it through the door of our house, had we occasion to pick it up. It was carved so the sides were all of equal length, and it sat in front of a tree with no sign of it having been dragged there. The tenant who worked the field said it was nothing he had ever seen before. But, my brother, all I can say to you is that there was something wrong about it. It was nothing short of evil.”_  

“Oh my God,” Fitz said softly. 

Jemma nodded and continued. 

 _“‘Father did not feel as I did, deciding that the harvest must have been God’s punishment for the sins of our tenants, but I was unsure. I searched for any record of such a stone and found nothing at first, until I finally discovered a scroll that explains its secrets.’”_  

“My father was searching for a scroll about Maveth!” Fitz interrupted. “It was one of the most important leads he ever had, but he said that he didn’t believe it existed anymore. But maybe this is it.” 

“Maybe,” Jemma replied seriously. 

Fitz nodded at Jemma to continue. 

_“‘However, by the time I returned to the stone with the scroll, it had disappeared. The tenant was as surprised as I was to find it gone, but there was, once again, no sign of it being dragged or taken away by cart. I grew afraid. The secrets on the scroll are too much for anyone to know. I hope that the stone is gone, and no one will have to know the truth of it. Even so, I have disposed of the scroll myself, in the hope that no one who wishes to use it maliciously will ever find it._

_“Please give your family my love._

_“Your most humble brother,_

_Simon Basset’”_

“So he destroyed the only clue we have,” Fitz said, sitting back against the wall. 

Jemma continued to look at the letter for a moment, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the page. After a moment, a smile spread across her face. “Not necessarily,” she said slowly. 

“How do you mean?” Fitz asked, sitting up again. 

“He only said he ‘disposed of’ it,” Jemma began, “which could mean buried or hid just as easily as burned or torn up.” 

“That’s not a lot of help though,” Fitz replied. “We don’t even know where he was from.”

“Actually we do,” Jemma replied, smiling widely as she flipped the paper over. “Right here: _God Bless John Garrett, Long Live the King_.” 

“John Garrett,” Fitz repeated, knowing he had heard the name before. “He was the last king of his dynasty…” Fitz was recalling what he had learned in history lessons years and years before. “And after the Garretts were the… Wards! He’s from Daisy’s kingdom! Or he was,” Fitz amended. 

Jemma beamed at him. “Exactly! Looks like we have another trip to make then.” 

The pair instantly stood up, Jemma still clutching the letter, and they raced over to Bobbi who was conversing quietly with one of the guards who stopped speaking as Fitz and Jemma approached. 

The pair quickly explained their findings to their friend.

“And that’s why we need to go to Daisy’s, as quickly as we can,” Fitz finished. “King Grant will, hopefully, be mustering his troops already, and we must catch them before they leave.” 

Bobbi sighed. “I had told the queen I would have you home quickly, but if we must, we must. We depart in the morning. I’ll inform our hosts.” 

The monks provided them with provisions for the ensuing journey, and the next morning they were off. 

Fitz and Jemma were in high spirits, excited to have finally made some progress and looking forward to the prospect of seeing their friend who they had said goodbye to nearly eight months before. 

“Daisy knew, you know,” Jemma said casually to Fitz on the first night as they sat around the fire in Fitz’s room at the inn, Bobbi and the guards having excused themselves earlier to discuss the route they were to take. Fitz had known it wasn’t quite proper for Bobbi to leave him and Jemma alone, but with the curse keeping them in check, it wasn’t as though they had much of a need for a chaperone. 

“Knew what?” Fitz asked, staring at his friend curiously.

“About us,” Jemma said, glancing up at him. “That I liked you, that you liked me.” 

“I’m fairly certain half the palace knew I liked you by the end, Jemma,” Fitz replied, knowing that he was visibly blushing in the light of the fire. 

“She would always ask about you letters,” Jemma continued, a small smile on her face, “as though she wasn’t being obvious.”

Fitz laughed. “She did the same thing to me, every letter she sent me.” 

Jemma grinned. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that.” 

“Did you ever tell her anything?” Fitz asked, now curious. 

It was Jemma’s turn to blush. “Perhaps.” 

Fitz grinned widely. “Now, I must here this.” 

Jemma ducked her head. “I just told her that yes, she was right, I did, _maybe,_ feel something more than friendship for you, but that it was probably silly since you’re the prince and you’re meant to marry a princess, and Daisy told me that I was actually beyond silly because you obviously really liked me, but then everything with the monolith happened, so I wasn’t ever able to write her back.”

Fitz moved out of his own chair to lean against the arm of Jemma’s. “And what would you say now if you were writing back?” 

Jemma looked up at him. “I’d tell Daisy she was wrong.” 

Fitz blinked. “What?” 

“I don’t just like you; I’m completely in love with you,” Jemma said with a mischievous grin. 

Fitz rolled his eyes at Jemma, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “You can add that I’m completely in love with you too.” 

And for what felt like the millionth time in the eight months since he had realized his feelings for his best friend, Fitz wanted nothing more than to kiss the woman he loved most in all the world, but they let the moment pass, as they had to.

The group arrived at Daisy’s palace early the following day, and Fitz was relieved to see both that Grant and his cavalry hadn’t left yet and that they were clearly preparing to leave in the very near future. Men were gathering all through the courtyard, with saddlebags packed in stacks near the stables. 

A few guards approached them. 

“Prince Leopold Fitz Coulson,” Fitz introduced himself quickly, “I’m here to see-” 

“FITZ!” A yell came from across the courtyard. “JEMMA!” 

In an instant the pair of them were almost knocked over by a blue and brown blur that had hurled itself at them. 

Fitz took a moment to recover from the shock before he started laughing, Jemma quickly joining in. 

“It’s good to see you too, Daisy,” Fitz said, hugging his friend back. 

“You didn’t say you were coming!” Daisy said, finally releasing them, her blue dress swirling around her feet as she jumped up and down with excitement. “We were to leave tomorrow so I could come stay with you.” 

“Well, I’m glad we’ve caught you then,” Jemma said, grinning. 

Daisy then noticed Bobbi standing behind them and rushed to give her a hug too. “I have to give you all the tour!” Daisy said excitedly. “There’s so much-” 

“Leopold.” Another figure joined them. 

“Grant,” Fitz inclined his head to Daisy’s older brother who nodded in return. 

“I was not aware that we were to have this… pleasure,” Grant said, clearly not regarding the presence of Fitz, Jemma, Bobbi, and four guards unannounced at his palace as anything short of a nuisance, let alone a pleasure.

“This was a very last minute trip,” Fitz replied evenly. “We don’t mean to impose. We were just in the area.” 

Grant narrowed his eyes, clearly knowing that Fitz wasn’t giving him all the details. “We’re to leave tomorrow to join your father.” 

Fitz nodded. “Daisy said. And we, my parents and myself, thank you greatly for your assistance.” 

Grant nodded. “I must see to my men. I’ll leave you with Daisy.” He strode away. 

Fitz let out a breath and turned back to Daisy who seemed slightly disconcerted. 

“Oh!” she said after a moment. “The tour!” 

“Actually,” Fitz interrupted, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to intrude on Grant Ward’s good favor, particularly since he was doing so much to help his father, “as much as I’d love to see your palace, Daisy, what we really need to see is old records from maybe a hundred years ago. Do you know where that would be?” 

Daisy stared at him. “So you weren’t just in the neighborhood?” 

Fitz shook his head. “No.” 

Daisy sighed. “Well, there’s a monastery not too far away. Your dad visited there several times when he was here.” 

“Perfect,” Fitz replied. “Can we go right away?” 

Daisy nodded, still confused, and left to get a horse and inform her brother that she was going out for the day. 

Fitz, Jemma, and Daisy chatted happily as they trotted off to the monastery, all catching each other up about their lives, though Fitz and Jemma didn’t mention the monolith, not because they didn’t trust her, but more because it was nice for a while to just pretend that everything wasn’t falling apart around them. 

“Here we are!” Daisy said finally an hour or two later as they approached a stone building perhaps twice the size of the monastery back in their kingdom.

The group left the guards to take care of the horses, and then they made there way inside where they were greeted by similarly friendly monks who were only too happy to take the princess and her friends to the library.

Fitz let out a breath as he saw the enormous room. It was much larger than the library they had just been at for a week, which meant even more time spent searching. He turned to Jemma, wanting to despair, but she was already deep in conversation with one of the monks who was nodding, leading her over to a shelf and pulling out a book.

Jemma beamed and thanked the man, taking the book and coming back to Fitz. “Census records from the past two hundred years. Perhaps we can find our Simon Basset in here.” 

Fitz smiled widely, shaking his head slightly. “You never cease to amaze me, Jemma.” 

Jemma blushed slightly, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly. “I could say the same thing about you.” 

The pair smiled at each other, lost in the moment, until the very indignant voice of their friend interrupted them. 

“So are you actually together? Finally?” Daisy stood between them, her arms folded. 

Fitz and Jemma jumped back from each other slightly. 

“Um,” Fitz said, not exactly sure how to explain what he and Jemma were. 

“It’s complicated,” Jemma interjected. 

Fitz nodded his agreement as they sat down, Jemma flipping open the book as she and Fitz began to look through it. 

Daisy was not amused. “Well, explain. We have time,” she said after a few minutes. 

“Actually, we don’t,” Fitz replied, keeping his eyes on the page that he and Jemma were skimming through. 

“Fitz,” Daisy said reproachfully. 

Jemma sighed. “You explain; I’ll look.” 

Fitz took a deep breath and walked over to sit beside Daisy. “You have to promise me you won’t say a word about this to anyone, not to Grant, not to Lincoln, no one,” Fitz whispered, deathly serious. 

Daisy nodded, confusion behind her eyes. 

“Well,” Fitz said with a sigh, “the quick version is that there’s an evil sorcerer named Maveth out terrorizing our kingdom, because I accidentally made him more powerful, which is why we need your kingdom’s army, but the only way to stop him is to kill him.” Fitz spoke quickly, his voice low. “Also Maveth cast a spell on me when I was a baby so that at true love’s curse everyone will forget me, and my true love will hate me,” he added as an afterthought. He shot a glance at Jemma, who looked up for a brief moment to offer him a reassuring smile. 

“You were… cursed?” Daisy repeated, having clearly not grasped everything Fitz had just said. 

Fitz nodded. “Yeah. So that’s why it’s complicated.” 

A grin spread across Daisy’s face. “Wait, that means Jemma’s your-” 

“Found him!” Jemma interrupted triumphantly, turning the book around to Fitz and Daisy could see. 

“Simon Basset,” Fitz read, smiling slightly at how quickly Jemma had found the name, “died seventy-five years ago.” 

“Oh, he lived in the next village!” Daisy said excitedly, peering down at the text. “I’m fairly certain I know exactly which manor it is, too.” 

“Then what are we waiting for?” Fitz said, standing up, taking Jemma’s hand back in his. 

The trio thanked the monks and hurried out of the monastery, garnering them a confused look from Bobbi who had clearly expected them to take longer. 

Daisy led the way to the next village, just a quick hour by horseback, as she tossed Fitz question after question about Maveth and the curse and why exactly they were going to a manor house previously held by someone named Simon Basset. 

Before long, they were knocking at a door, Daisy at the front, Jemma and Fitz next to her, Bobbi and the guards behind them. 

“Hel- Your Highness!” The servant answering the door instantly fell into a low bow at the sight of Daisy. 

“May we speak to the lord of the manor?” Daisy asked, formally. “We’re interested in the records of the previous lords who have lived here.” 

“Of course, Your Highness,” the servant said with another bow. “Do come in.”

The group waited in the foyer, three of the guards remaining outside, as the servant dashed off to find his master. 

Very quickly, a man who looked to be in his forties, his hair just beginning to grey, rushed into the room. “Your Highness.” He bowed as low as his servant before straightening and catching sight of Fitz. “And Your Highness!” Another bow. “I’m honored by your visit.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Daisy replied. “If I may, what is your name?” 

“William Basset, Your Highness.”

Daisy flashed Fitz and Jemma a smug look. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Daisy, this is…” She paused at Fitz’s name, clearly unsure whether to call him Leopold or Fitz. “Prince Leopold,” she decided, “and Lady Simmons and Lady Hunter.”

Jemma ducked her head, laughing at the unwarranted description of her as a Lady. 

Daisy ignored her. “We’re trying to find a scroll that an ancestor of yours had in his possession, Simon Basset.” 

Understanding flashed behind Lord Basset’s eyes. “Simon Basset was my grandfather’s grandfather. He added tremendously to our library during his lifetime.” 

Fitz grinned. 

“May we see?” Jemma asked, clearly excited. 

“Certainly. Right this way.” He gestured for the group to follow him. 

“My son is with the men leaving to go with King Grant to help your kingdom,” Lord Basset said to Fitz as they walked down the hall. “He was only just knighted. This is his first real campaign.” 

“That’s the reason we’re here,” Fitz said, wanting to reassure the man that his son would be safe, feeling slightly guilty that he wasn’t out with his father fighting himself. “We believe that something in your great- great-grandfather’s possession might be the key to their victory.” 

Lord Basset turned to him, clearly confused, but a look of relief in his eyes. 

“Here we are!” Lord Basset led them into the library, not nearly as large as the one in the palace or the ones in the monasteries, but quite enormous for a lord in a modest manor. “Most of this was added by Simon.” 

“Are there any personal writings? Diary entries or journals?” Jemma asked, instantly jumping into action. 

“Oh yes,” Lord Basset led them to an entire case of loose or string bound parchments with a few leather-bound volumes at the end. “This is everything he left behind. I haven’t gone through much of it myself, but perhaps this is what you are looking for.” 

“Thank you so much, Lord Basset,” Daisy said with a wide smile. 

“No trouble at all, Your Highness. Shall I have some tea brought up?

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Daisy replied. 

“Then I will take my leave.” With a bow, Lord Basset left the library. 

“Okay,” Jemma turned to Fitz, Daisy, and Bobbi. “We’re looking for anything about a scroll or an evil black rock.” 

They nodded in response and then got to work.

It was more difficult than Fitz had anticipated. Jemma had found the record of Simon Basset extremely quickly, but finding a record of the monolith was more difficult. Basset had evidently been changed by the experience of finding the monolith, since much of his writings were devoted to natural philosophy and magic, studying rocks, just as Fitz and Jemma had done, and cases of objects that had disappeared and reappeared by themselves. But, as they drank their tea and ate their way through a small pile of cakes, the closest they could find to the monolith was a mention of “the incident” which context deemed to be Basset’s encounter with the monolith, but that was it. 

“Here’s a journal,” Daisy said boredly, nearly an hour later. “But he’s young here, ‘ _my sixteenth birthday_ ,’” she read out as she flipped through pages, “‘ _Thomas has had another son_ ,’” “‘ _today I found something impossible_.’” 

“What was that?” Fitz looked up. 

Daisy was staring down at the page. “‘ _Today I found something impossible. With the poor harvest, Father and I visited the tenants. Nothing seemed amiss until we reached the fields tended by our tenant Holland. In the farthest field, there was a large black stone.’_ And he describes the dimensions,” Daisy continued, skimming down. “‘ _Its very presence chills me to the core. It is unnatural, dare I say evil_.’” She flipped through pages. “He’s doing research, traveling to libraries, here we go! ‘ _Buried beneath the largest volumes, I found one small scroll. Upon it is a description of the stone and its secrets. It speaks of an evil that comes from the stone, some sort of dark magic, an unnamed being, perhaps a sorcerer._ ” 

Daisy inhaled quickly and turned the page. _“‘I went to see the stone again, but found it gone. I am convinced this is dark magic, the blackest I have known, so I have resolved to dispose of the scroll. I know I cannot destroy it, for the time may come when someone need know how to destroy this monster, but I will bury it in the field beneath the oak tree where I first saw the stone, so it will not fall into the wrong hands. I can only hope the stone is gone for good, and no one ever need search for the scroll.’_ ” 

No one spoke. 

“Anyone feel like digging?” Bobbi piped up after a moment. 

“One step closer,” Fitz said almost to himself as he stood. 

Jemma’s hand found his almost instantly, and she gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. 

Lord Basset had clearly been waiting for them, almost immediately appearing in their midst as they exited the library after restacking all the papers in exact same order as they had been placed when they arrived, as per Jemma’s instruction. “Did you find what you needed?”

“Yes, Lord Basset,” Daisy replied. “We are incredibly grateful to you for the library and for your hospitality.” 

Lord Basset laughed. “I am quite honored, Your Highness. It is not everyday that one is permitted to entertain Princess Daisy, Prince Leopold, and their friends.” His eyes lingered on Fitz and Jemma’s intertwined fingers as he said “friends.” 

Fitz blushed slightly, ducking his head, but he didn’t remove his hand from Jemma’s. If this scroll truly did hold the key to defeating Maveth, then perhaps in not too long he could proclaim to the world that he was wanted to marry Jemma Simmons, his beautiful, brilliant, perfect best friend in the world. Let Lord Basset gossip about Fitz and Jemma; it didn’t bother Fitz in the least.

“Is there a family called Holland that works your land?” Daisy asked as they walked toward the door. 

“Oh, yes,” Lord Basset replied, stepping outside, “the Holland family have been tenants of the Bassets for centuries. Their plot is the furthest one down the lane.” He pointed off into the distance. 

“Again, thank you,” Daisy said. “And now we must be off.” 

There were bows and curtseys all around, and soon they were headed down the lane. It was growing darker and colder, and Fitz found himself thinking of the men on campaign, hopefully staying warm enough. 

The group rode to the Holland farm as quickly as possible, and they practically raced to the door. 

“Who’s ther- Your Highness! What are you-” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Daisy brushed away the man’s confusion quickly. “You are called Holland, correct?” 

The man nodded, eyes wide. 

Daisy smiled sweetly. “We have a bit of an odd request. May we borrow a couple shovels and dig under the oak tree on the back of your plot?” 

The farmer stared at them. “Pardon me, Your Highness, but you wish to _dig_ underneath the _oak tree_ at the edge of the field?” 

“Yes, sir,” Daisy replied. “Something was buried there over a century ago, and we need to find it.” 

“Of course, Your Highness,” the man said, clearly fighting the urge to dismiss the princess as insane, “but it’s getting rather late and it’s terribly cold. Won’t you come indoors to keep from freezing?” 

“Thank you kindly for the offer, but this is rather urgent.” 

“Of course,” the man replied, still clearly concerned. He stepped outside and led them to the shed where he handed them two sturdy shovels. “The oak tree is the furthest one in that field.” He pointed off into the distance where a lonely, leafless tree rose from the empty field. 

“Thank you!” they called and hurried away, leaving Holland staring after them. 

Two of the guards quickly took the shovels and began digging as they reached the tree, ignoring Fitz and Jemma’s protests that they could dig perfectly well themselves. 

The rest of the group milled around, jumping up and down and rubbing their arms trying to keep warm. Farmer Holland had been right; it was getting colder and colder as the sun started sinking behind the hills. 

And then they heard a thump. 

The entire group gathered around the hole one of the guards had been digging. He hopped down into the hole, scraped around, and soon had unearthed a crude wooden box, which he passed up to Bobbi who immediately handed it to Fitz. 

Fitz took a deep breath and opened it. 

The box was empty, save one small scroll. Fitz took out the scroll and handed the box to Jemma, who set it down on the ground, the entire group watching with bated breath as Fitz unfurled the parchment. 

Fitz stared at it. And stared at it. And then looked up, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know what it says. It’s not any language I know.” He showed the scroll to Jemma, Daisy, and Bobbi, each one staring down in confusion at the faded ink, a large character at the top of the parchment with several smaller lines below it. 

“Wait a minute,” Bobbi said, a grin creeping onto her face, “one of our companions happens to be quite good at this sort of thing. May?” 

The guard who had found the box, and who seemed to be in charge of the others, stepped forward. 

“Do you mind?” Bobbi asked the helmeted figure.

“They’d have to find out eventually,” came the reply, distinctly less gruff than Fitz was anticipating, actually it sounded almost…. 

The guard pulled off his helmet releasing a length of black hair and a face and sly smile that did not belong to a man at all. 

“Of my God,” Jemma whispered from beside him. “It’s the Cavalry.” 

The smile grew slightly. “Lady Melinda Garner of the Cavalry, at your service, Prince Leopold, Princess Daisy, Miss Simmons.” She bowed, a curtsey clearly not being an option in her present armored state. 

“You’re the leader,” Fitz said, awed, and slightly confused because he was certain he had seen this woman somewhere before. “You’re the one who vanquished the invaders before I was born.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “I did have some help.” 

“Our kingdom is indebted to you, um, Lady Garner,” Fitz said, not completely sure how to address the captain of the secret Cavalry. 

“Call me May,” the woman replied. “I was Melinda May until I married Doctor Andrew Garner, and the name stuck.”

“Doctor Garner?” Jemma asked, entering the conversation. “He works in the infirmary.”

The corner of May’s mouth twitched upwards. “We live outside the palace grounds, and I do the odd errand for the King and help at the infirmary on occasion.” 

Fitz’s mouth fell open, suddenly placing the woman in the background of scenes at the infirmary when Fitz had been distracted by his work. 

“I also can read Hebrew, which is what is written on the scroll you have in your hand,” May continued.

Fitz immediately passed the parchment to her. 

May stared down at it, eyes full of concentration. “The top here says ‘death by punishment.’” 

“YES!” Fitz and Jemma yelled together, jumping up and down. 

“What?” Daisy turned to them, concerned. 

But May kept reading. “A column of rock, great in power, hides another world, opened by light, and from there he gets his power-” 

“Got that part, didn’t we?” Fitz muttered to Jemma, his voice both joking and bitter. 

May ignored him. “But it will close for good if he returns-” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. That was interesting. 

“He may be of Inhuman power, but he is still human.”

“So we can kill him then?” Jemma interrupted. “We kill him and then put his body back through the monolith.”

“But how are we supposed to kill him?” Fitz asked, thinking.

“Wait a minute, there’s more.” May interrupted. “‘He cannot die-” 

Fitz threw his head in his hands. 

“‘But he can still fall,’” May finished. “That’s it.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daisy asked. “How can someone fall but not die?” 

Fitz thought for a moment and then realized something. He turned to Jemma, to see that she had discovered the same thing he had. 

“The solution!” 

“But it doesn’t last very long,” Fitz said, speaking only to Jemma. 

“And it would be difficult to get it to him,” Jemma replied, her mind clearly racing as fast as Fitz’s. 

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” Daisy asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. 

“Our solution for instant paralysis,” Fitz replied. “All the soldiers out in the field should have some with them. If we’re able to introduce the solution to his blood, assuming he has blood,” he added as an aside, “then he will, as the scroll says, ‘fall.’” 

“So then we just need the monolith,” May said, looking down at Fitz for instructions. 

Fitz nodded. “Can we send word to the, um, _other_ cavalry and the palace and let them know what we’ve found?” 

May nodded to the other three soldiers who stepped forward and pulled off their helmets revealing them to be women too. They quickly introduced themselves to the prince: Lady Anne Weaver, who Fitz and Jemma knew was the wife of another knight, Lady Maria Hill who had been a governess to some of the girls when they were younger, and Lady Natasha Romanoff who Fitz couldn’t place but was certain he had seen somewhere in the palace at some point, a passing glance here or there, blending in with the crowd. After the introductions, they departed, Lady Weaver heading for the palace, and Lady Hill and Lady Romanov racing toward the village where the cavalry were stationed. 

“So what do we do now?” Jemma asked, looking from Fitz to Bobbi to May who had remained behind. 

Bobbi spoke. “We get back to Grant and move out tomorrow, straight to King Coulson, not stopping at the palace.” She glanced at Fitz and Jemma. “We’ll need you both to be there to help with the monolith and the solution, but Daisy,” she turned to their friend, “you can stay behind if you’d like.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Not a chance.” 

Bobbi flashed her a smile. “Good. Now, let’s head back. It’s almost nightfall, and I’d rather not freeze to death out here. We’ve got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters posted (most) Fridays.


	11. A Journey and a New Friend

The trip back to the palace wasn’t particularly pleasant, especially as the lightest flurries of snow began to fall, whipping around them and stinging their faces as their horses galloped toward the palace. But even with the snow and cold, Fitz was bursting with excitement. They didn’t know exactly how to take on Maveth, but this was the closest anyone had ever gotten. 

When they finally made it back to the castle, May instantly transforming back into her silent guard persona, they left their horses in the stables and hurried inside out of the cold.

Fitz took Jemma’s hand and found that it was freezing, even through the mitten that covered it. He quickly pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arm around her back and taking each of her hands in his, clutching them to her chest trying to warm them up as best he could. As the group stopped in the foyer to wait for Daisy to run off and find what rooms had been prepared for them, Jemma snuggled further into Fitz’s embrace, tucking her head under his chin. 

“You’re so cold,” Fitz said softly, his hands rubbing against hers. 

“It’s not so bad now,” she replied, turning and grinning into his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

“And now I feel horrible for making you all deal with me and Lincoln for months,” Daisy’s voice interrupted their quiet moment. 

They both looked up to see their friend staring at them with a mix of revulsion and amusement. 

“If Lincoln and I were even half as adorable as you two are being right now, then I’d be surprised if you all didn’t want to murder us on a daily basis.” Daisy shook her head, her wide smile betraying her true happiness for Fitz and Jemma. 

“You says we didn’t,” Jemma fired back, grinning. 

Daisy rolled her eyes and then asked the group to follow her, May having already slipped off to the soldier’s quarters with a murmur of something that sounded like “just like old times.” 

Fitz had his own room while Jemma was to share with Bobbi, and they quickly put their things away before meeting up again in the hall. 

Grant had finally come to greet them, seeming just as annoyed by the news that Fitz and the rest of the group would be accompanying him straight to King Coulson as he had been by the prospect of their visit to his palace. He looked over Fitz and Jemma, holding hands openly in the corridor, and eyed Bobbi, who was clearly their chaperone. Bobbi stared back at him imploringly, her eyebrows raised, but Grant said nothing and soon departed. 

“Come on!” Daisy said, not the least bit disconcerted or deterred as she grabbed Jemma’s free hand and pulled her along. “I’ve got to give you all the tour!”

Fitz found the palace nice and comfortable, though definitely draftier than his own, as Daisy had always been complaining about during the months she had stayed with them. 

Daisy looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, which, she confided to Fitz and Jemma, was that of the usual women who followed her around at all hours of the day. The one who had been with Daisy before their group’s arrival had lost track of her as she ran to greet Fitz and Jemma, and now that they were back, Bobbi had been deemed a suitable chaperone, as she was serving that role for Fitz and Jemma already. It was an ideal situation for Daisy, since she thought of Bobbi as a sister much like Fitz and Jemma did. 

Daisy showed them all her favorite rooms and, more importantly, all her favorite secret passages and hideaways that she had been using her entire life. 

Fitz and Jemma were extremely impressed, recalling similar practices from when they were particularly young, but Daisy had a much more elaborate system worked out which was a testament to the 9 years that Fitz and Jemma had been given free reign that had not been awarded to Daisy. 

“I just can’t wait until I can marry Lincoln,” she said her face falling slightly. 

The group had stopped in a small sitting room only accessible by a door behind a tapestry, as engineered by Daisy many years before. 

“I feel trapped here,” Daisy continued, sighing, “but when I’m Lincoln’s wife I won’t need to run from chaperones or hide in secret passages to try to hear about what’s going on in the kingdom. I just want the freedom you both have.” She offered Fitz and Jemma a sad smile. 

“If it makes you feel better,” Fitz said softly after a moment, “I’m pretty sure the only reason Jemma and I have been given so much freedom is that my parents felt so bad about the curse. You’d likely feel you have to give your son everything he wants if there’s a good chance you might forget him one day.” Fitz laughed genuinely, having come to terms with the curse to such an extent that joking about it was easy. “Plus I’m a boy.”

Daisy grinned at that. “Of course it’s because you’re a boy. But then we have Jemma here…”

“Well that’s all down to Fitz,” Jemma answered for herself. “He never let us be separated, and the king and queen couldn’t see the problem with it.” 

Fitz laughed again. “I suspect my father was trying to insulate me from other girls so I would avoid the whole true love curse thing for as long as possible. Jemma never even crossed his mind. He still doesn’t even know.” 

Jemma stared at him. “The _King_ doesn’t know about you and me?” 

Fitz shrugged. “My mother says he’s got a lot on his plate. She knows though, of course. She’s always been more observant than my father anyway.” 

Jemma shook her head. “I feel almost deceitful then, if my purpose was to keep you company until Maveth was dead when you could go off and find your princess.” 

“Well my father’s daft if he thought that I could ever find a princess that would come close to measuring up to you,” Fitz replied instantly. “When this is over and I finally get a chance to tell him, I promise you he’ll hit himself for not having seen it before, and then he’ll be incredibly pleased, just as my mother is.” 

“But suppose he isn’t?” Jemma replied, clearly concerned. 

Fitz took her hand in his. “He’s my father; he’ll understand. Anyone can see that you make me happier than anything in the entire world. And I’m hopelessly in love with you; that counts for something.” 

Jemma wrapped her arms around Fitz immediately, a wide smile on her face. 

“Ugh, guys! What did I say about this?” 

The pair moved apart, having momentarily forgotten that their conversation had been originally directed at Daisy. 

“Sorry,” Fitz mumbled.

Daisy merely laughed, effectively cheered up. 

They left early the following morning, bundled up as warm as they could manage, all on horseback, though Fitz found himself longing for the days when every hour of his life wasn’t spent astride his mount. He, Jemma, and Bobbi had done far more riding in the past few weeks than Fitz was really up for. 

It was somewhere around six days to the king, according to Grant, so they settled in for the journey. Since they had a large number of soldiers traveling with them, inns were out and tents were in. Nights were spent huddled together around fires, Jemma, Fitz, and Daisy squeezed together to better keep each other warm. Bobbi, in contrast, was as hearty as any of the men, walking around with barely a shiver as she laughed with the one guard who was shorter than all the others. 

“Is she just here to flirt with knights?” Grant grumbled angrily one night as he happened to pass their fire. 

Fitz, Jemma, and Daisy waited until Grant was out of earshot to burst into laughter. Fitz wished Lance could have been there to hear that Grant thought Bobbi was flirting with May. 

But as they tried to keep warm, they also tried to make a plan, with Bobbi and May’s assistance. 

“Arrows would be the best if we want to hit him from far away,” Jemma said one evening, considering.

“But what about the wind?” Fitz asked, thinking through what had happened the last time he and Jemma had been faced with the sorcerer. “Won’t the arrows just be directed away from him?”

“What if you shoot more than one?” Bobbi suggested. “Maybe you’d have more of a chance of taking him out that way.” 

“Or get above him,” Daisy added. 

Fitz stared at his friend appraisingly. “That’s an idea. But either way, we can’t do anything unless the monolith is right there.” 

“Let’s hope Anne, that is Lady Weaver,” May corrected quickly, “was able to work things out back at the palace.” 

Fitz heard what sounded like a twig snap behind him, but when he turned and looked, the grove of trees behind him was empty. 

“Is something wrong, Fitz?” Jemma asked, concerned. 

Fitz shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just the wind.” 

As they drew closer to the king and the cavalry, the mood around the camp began to grow more excited. Rumors flew all around the soldiers, according to May, since Grant hadn’t given them too much information about the situation. They knew they were to help King Coulson, but with what was anyone’s guess. May told them the most outrageous rumors – a dragon’s burned down half of King Coulson’s kingdom, his wife was kidnapped by masked men, there’s nothing actually wrong but Prince Leopold and Princess Daisy wanted an excuse to run away together. That last one Fitz found the most ludicrous, if only because he spent the majority of his time when they weren’t riding holding hands with Jemma who was most certainly not Princess Daisy. But, the worst part, of course, was that the real reason for their journey was as outrageous as any of the most insane suggestions (except perhaps the one with the dragon).

Fitz and his friends, too, were happy to be getting close. Daisy was practically bouncing at the prospect of seeing Lincoln. Bobbi, much less obviously, was incredibly excited to see Lance, the enormous smile on her face when Fitz casually mentioned him giving her away. Jemma and Fitz were each excited to see their fathers, and everyone wanted to see Mack. It was going to be moment of truth soon, Fitz and Jemma’s chance to live a normal life together, happily ever after. 

And Fitz really needed to tell his father about Jemma. He knew that despite his reassurances at Daisy’s palace, Jemma was still nervous, and Fitz wanted to reassure her. Fitz couldn’t see his father being upset about him wanting to marry Jemma. It was true love, after all. 

And even Grant seemed to be in a better mood now that they were closer. 

“We’ll be to your father tomorrow if we’re quick, the day after for sure.” Grant had joined Fitz looking out from the top of a hill as the group stopped for a midday meal. 

“We really are incredibly grateful for your help,” Fitz said after a moment. “I know you’d rather not have us with you, but thank you all the same.”

Grant flashed him a smile that almost looked genuine. “We’re allies, your father and I, and someday you and I will be too. I know I could count on your father if something like this were to happen to my kingdom, if there were to be a war, for example.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. “Hopefully nothing will come to that. My father’s managed to keep us at peace for as long as I’ve been alive. We were hoping you would join us in our mission.” 

Grant raised his eyebrows. “You’ve become quite the political prince since I last saw you.” 

Fitz shrugged. “I’d have to learn it all eventually. Daisy would be a better ruler than I would, though.” 

Grant stared at him sharply. “You don’t mean to marry-” 

“Oh no, no, no,” Fitz interrupted hurriedly. “I was merely commenting on how comfortable Daisy is with politics. Though I love her like a sister, Daisy and I are not destined to wed.” 

Grant visibly relaxed. “Good.” 

Fitz raised his eyebrows. 

“Not to say that you wouldn’t be a good and worthy match for my sister,” Grant quickly explained, “but I was just under the impression that you were engaged to Miss Simmons.”

Fitz grinned to himself. “It’s not as official as I’d like, but yes, we are rather engaged.” 

Grant smiled at him. “You seem very happy together.” 

Fitz nodded. “We are.” He paused. “And what about you, Grant? Is there a queen for your castle?” 

Grant threw him a half-smile. “Perhaps. There’s a young maiden I met recently that I believe attended Daisy’s farewell ball at your palace. Kara Palamas. She said she danced with you, but you found her wanting.”

“I’m sure I meant no disrespect,” Fitz quickly apologized. “I’m really not one for balls at the best of times, and if this Kara is the girl I’m thinking of, then our dance came at a particularly bad time. I do hope she will forgive me my rudeness.” 

“Oh it’s nothing, Fitz.” 

Fitz glanced up at Grant, disconcerted, having never told Grant to call him by his middle name. 

“I hope it’s not impertinent,” Grant said. “Your friends call you Fitz, I know. I hope that we can perhaps be friends.” 

Fitz nodded. “Gladly. My father will be grateful, and I’m sure your sister will be as well.” 

But before Grant could say anything else, their attention was captured by the figures of two knights riding toward them at a very fast clip. Fitz recognized them instantly as members of May’s Cavalry. 

“Please fetch Lady Hunter,” Fitz called down to a soldier eating near where Fitz and Grant stood. “And ask her to bring her friend.” 

The man quickly ran off, leaving Fitz and Grant to await the arrivals of the knights. 

“Do you know them?” Grant asked quietly. 

Fitz nodded. “They were two of our guard. Hill and Romanoff, I should think.” 

“Fitz, what is- Oh.” Bobbi had joined them, May beside her. “What do you think they’ve come back for?” 

“Hopefully nothing bad,” Fitz replied as evenly as he could manage. 

The knights (or ladies – Fitz wasn’t really sure what he should call them besides the Cavalry) approached and bowed before the king and the prince before turning to May and Bobbi, clearly unsure whether to reveal themselves in front of Grant. 

“It’s okay,” Fitz said quickly. “He’s a friend; he can be trusted.” 

Both nodded and removed their helmets. 

Grant took a step backward, clearly shocked. 

“This is Lady Hill and Lady Romanoff,” Fitz introduced the women casually with a small smile at the confusion on the face of his fellow royal. 

“But they’re-” 

“Women, yes,” Fitz replied. “Members of my father’s most elite Cavalry.”

Grant raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced, but he said nothing more.

“What news?” Fitz asked the women. 

“The King sent us to warn you, if we could find you,” Lady Hill said, her expression grim. “Maveth has henchmen working for him, ordinary men scouting for him disguised as travelers and the like. Usually in black cloaks, especially at night.” 

Fitz was suddenly struck with an unpleasant thought. “You don’t think he has spies among our armies, do you?” 

“The King has expressed similar concerns,” Lady Romanoff replied stoically, “but as yet we have discovered no one.” 

Fitz let out a breath and nodded. “Thank you. We’ll steer well clear of strangers and try to make it to the King as quickly as we can.”

The pair nodded. 

“How is everything at the village?” Fitz asked hesitantly. 

“As well as can be expected when fighting a nearly-unbeatable sorcerer,” Lady Hill replied with a sigh. “Everyone is safe, for the moment anyway.” 

“Well that’s something,” Fitz replied, glad to hear that his father and their friends were okay. “Will you stay with us or go back to my father?” 

“We should return,” Lady Romanoff said quickly. “The king will want to know that we found you and that you’re with Grant.” 

“He’s not angry I left the castle, is he?” Fitz asked, worried for a moment. 

“He was concerned, but I think he was more proud than anything,” Lady Romanoff replied with a sly smile. 

Fitz offered a smile of his own. 

“You left Princess Daisy and Miss Simmons at the palace though, of course?” Lady Hill checked. 

“Er…” 

“We need Jemma to help take down Maveth, and Daisy refused to be left behind,” Bobbi interjected. “Jemma’s just as capable as any soldier, and she’s probably a better archer than anyone not part of the archer corps. And Daisy’s very clever and tactical. It’s perfectly safe.” 

Lady Hill nodded. “I agree with you; I’m just not sure the King will see it like that.” 

“That’s our problem, not yours,” Fitz said quickly. “Don’t worry over it. If my father’s upset, we’ll be there not long after you, so he can be angry at me then.” 

The women bowed to Fitz and Grant, nodded at Bobbi and still-masked May, replaced their helmets, and rode away. 

“Female soldiers,” Grant said staring, awed, in their wake. “How many of those does your father have?’ 

Fitz glanced surreptitiously back at Bobbi and May. “Er, just a few.” 

“Hm.” Grant frowned but then shrugged. “I ought to warn my men about watching out for suspicious figures and suspicious activity.” He bowed to Fitz and strode away. 

“I didn’t know you guys were so close,” Bobbi said, eyebrows raised. 

Fitz shrugged. “I may have misjudged him. He wants us to be friends. I think he can be trusted, with this at least.” 

“I do see that you didn’t give Bobbi and I away,” May said, her expression similar to Bobbi’s. 

“I don’t know how _much_ I can trust him,” Fitz replied. 

Fitz hurried back to find Jemma and Daisy and tell them the news before the horn sounded for them to move out. 

The entire group of soldiers closed ranks as they traveled the rest of the day, keeping closer together than they had at any point during the journey. Fitz looked out for Grant, wanting to ask about ways of protecting themselves, but the king was apparently elsewhere in the battalion. 

Grant finally reemerged as the sun set to order the troops to make camp for the night.

“Do you mind if I join your circle for dinner?” Grant asked, smiling slightly. 

Daisy beamed at him. “We’d be glad to have you.” 

The group sat staring into the flames as they ate their rations, trying to keep warm.

The sky darkened quickly, turning to black almost before they could notice it. No one wanted to speak about Maveth or fighting, so they told stories, trying to keep everyone’s spirits up. Jemma, colder than anyone, as usual, slipped away to grab her extra blanket as the chatter in the camp died down around them. 

“Do you still think we’ll make it by tomorrow?” Fitz asked Grant quietly. 

Grant shrugged. “It depends how early a start we make, how tired everyone is, and exactly how far away your father’s men are. I know where they are roughly, but I don’t know the exact spot.” He frowned slightly. “I should have asked the, uh, ladies earlier.” 

Fitz and Daisy exchanged grins. 

No one spoke for a few minutes, the air filled with the sounds of crackling fires and horses stirring slightly. 

“Fitz,” Daisy said suddenly. “What happened to Jemma?”

“She went to get another blanket…” Fitz trailed off, standing up immediately. “That was ages ago. She should have been back long before now.” Lady Hill’s words from earlier about Maveth’s henchmen were ringing in his ears.

“I’m sure she just got sidetracked by something on the way back,” Bobbi said, standing up beside him and not sounding nearly as sure as her words.

Fitz shook his head and started over to where the horses were tied up on the other side of the wood. They had left a pile of their provisions next to them, Jemma’s extra blanket among them.

He found her saddlebag quickly. It was on top and had been opened, but the blanket was still inside. 

“Jemma would never leave her bag open,” Fitz said trying to keep his voice even. “And she would never disappear like this.” 

“She must be around somewhere,” Daisy said, having followed him with Bobbi, Grant, and May.

Fitz took a deep breath, trying to wrap his head around what was going on. Suddenly he turned back to the wood. “JEMMA!” he yelled, his voice desperate. “JEMMA!” 

“We should ask the soldiers on guard duty if they’ve seen anything,” Grant said quickly, turning on his heels as the rest of the group trailed after him. 

Fitz stared around wildly, feeling lost without Jemma at his side. 

“Sir Barnard, Sir Geoffrey, have you seen anything?” Grant asked a pair of knights evenly as they approached them. 

“Nothing, Your Majesty,” replied the taller of the two. 

“Well, nothing except a couple figures and a cart in the distance,” the other amended. “They were quite far off though, not near enough to camp to be of concern.” 

“Did you see what they looked like at all?” Fitz asked, fear growing inside of him as he stepped forward. 

The man shook his head. “Not really, Your Highness, no. One was smaller and the other was larger I’d think. And they got onto the back of a cart. We just assumed it was some lost travelers making their way home.” 

“The bigger one looked as though he might be wearing a cloak though, from the shape he made,” the first guard added. 

“That’s true,” the other agreed. “One large in a cloak and the other small. But huddled together the whole time.” 

Fitz turned to his friends. He saw reflected back at him nothing but fear and worry. 

“Maveth’s got Jemma,” Fitz said finally, his voice hollow. “We’ve got to find her. We have to save her.” 

“We don’t know that,” Bobbi said quickly. “It could be anything. But it’s much too late, Fitz. You’re exhausted; we all are. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.” 

Fitz stared at her. “Don’t you understand? Jemma Simmons, my best friend, the love of my life, has been kidnapped by henchmen of an evil sorcerer, and you say we’ll just ‘head out first thing’? You of all people Bobbi-”

“It’s not safe, Fitz!” Bobbi interrupted. “You have to understand that!” 

“NO!” Fitz took a step toward Bobbi. “I am Prince Leopold Fitz Coulson. The woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with has in all likelihood been kidnapped, and there is not a single thing you can say or do that will stop me from going after her.” 

Fitz didn’t wait for a response as he ran back toward the horses.

“Fitz, wait!”

He stopped and turned to see Grant racing after him.

“Don’t you dare lecture me,” Fitz snarled. 

Grant shook his head. “Of course not. I just wanted to say I’m coming with you.” 

Fitz stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “We have to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. I really hope you guys are having as much fun reading this as I am writing it.
> 
> New chapters posted weekly.


	12. A Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, Downton Abbey ended, school happened, blah blah blah.
> 
> The last scene in this chapter is really the one this entire fic is based around, so I'm excited to have finally reached that point. Things are going to get a little intense, but I won't say more than that.
> 
> Enjoy!!

They didn’t have any idea where they were going; they didn’t bring any supplies besides what was left in their saddle bags; they didn’t even know if the figure the guards had described was Jemma or not. All Fitz and Grant had to go on was a rough, finger-pointed approximation of where Jemma may have been taken, but Fitz was nothing less than determined. 

His heart was pounding in his ears as they galloped off into the night, his mind empty of everything by Jemma. Jemma, missing. Jemma, kidnapped. Jemma, trapped, tortured, killed. The words repeated through his mind with every hoof beat on the ground. Maveth had Jemma. Maveth had Jemma. Maveth had Jemma. 

Fitz was ready at that moment to trade himself for Jemma, to live imprisoned for the rest of his life, if only to spare her from whatever the sorcerer had planned. He missed her hand, soft in his. He missed her smile and her reassurances that everything would be okay. He missed her calm analysis of any problem, finding solutions in ways that Fitz never could have found alone. Without her by his side, Fitz felt lost, but he knew he would find her. He wouldn’t rest until he did. After all, it hadn’t been long since she disappeared, even if they were riding quickly, and, with any luck, he and Grant would come upon her and her captor somewhere along the road. 

But they didn’t have luck. Hours passed, the sun began to rise, and Fitz and Grant were thoroughly lost. 

“Fitz, we need to stop, rest, and try to get our bearings,” Grant said as the sky began to brighten, his voice only slightly hesitant. 

Fitz glared at him. “I’m not stopping until we find Jemma.” 

“We have no idea where we are, let alone if Jemma even went this way,” Grant replied without skipping a beat. “Please, we have to stop, just for a little. I want to look over my maps, and I want you to sleep.” 

“ _Sleep_?” Fitz replied incredulously. “The woman I’m in love with has been stolen off somewhere, and you want me to _sleep_?” 

Grant rolled his eyes and stopped his horse, staring at Fitz expectantly to do the same. 

Fitz seethed for a moment, but he relented. “Ten minutes you can have; that’s all.” 

Grant nodded and the pair dismounted as Grant pulled out his map. Fitz sat up against a tree, intending to keep his eyes on Grant until he let them move out again, but before Fitz knew it, his eyelids were drooping and then they were closed and then he was blinking awake to the sight of Bobbi standing over him with a glare rivaling the one he had thrown at Grant. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, Fitz,” Bobbi said harshly, reaching out a hand to pull him to his feet. “I know you love Jemma, and I know you’ll do anything to find her, but you can still stop to think for half a moment. You left without provisions or a plan or any sense at all! I’m just glad you let Grant go with you. And I’m glad he followed my orders and made you get some sleep.” 

“ _Your_ orders?” Fitz asked, slightly groggy as he tried to figure out how long he’d been asleep. It was definitely brighter than it had been when he shut his eyes. 

“You think I’d let you hunt down Jemma without anyone at all to look after you?” Bobbi rolled her eyes. “I wanted to go myself, since you were so adamant, but I had to figure things out with May and Daisy.” 

“Where’s May?” Fitz asked, looking around and seeing only Grant, sleeping on the ground nearby, and a small fire. 

“She went to find the King,” Bobbi replied, “and Daisy stayed to lead the soldiers.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows at the second statement. 

Bobbi shrugged. “Their king’s off on a wild goose chase with a prince, and Daisy’s perfectly capable.” 

Fitz nodded, but his face soon hardened. “How long have you been here? Grant said we’d only stop for 10 minutes.” 

Bobbi offered him a smile that was understanding but almost patronizing. “About three hours, I’d imagine. Grant said you fell asleep as soon as you sat down.” 

“But Jemma-” 

“Is in a much better position to be rescued now,” Bobbi interrupted. “ _I_ know where we are, which you and Grant did _not_ know, and I know the most likely place Jemma was taken. And we’ll soon have reinforcements from your father if we need them. This is why I wanted you to stop and think for a moment before you ran away.” 

Fitz understood Bobbi’s point, but any way he thought about it, he would have done the exact same thing all over again. Jemma was the only thing that mattered. 

Bobbi woke Grant, and they ate breakfast as quickly as possibly, Fitz refusing to sit down and eyeing the horses very pointedly to hurry his companions along. 

When they finally left, Bobbi led the way, explaining that they were not far from the ruins of the old fortress that Maveth had been using as a base. 

“More than likely that’s where he’s taken Jemma,” Bobbi said reassuringly. “We’ll find her and get her home.” 

Fitz took a deep breath and nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

It was nearly midday when they finally came out of they valley they had been riding through up into a copse at the base of a hill. Rising from the top was clearly the fortress Bobbi had described. It must have been centuries old, falling apart, the entirety of a turret smashed on the ground leaving a hole on the edge of the rampart. Fitz was momentarily worried that someone had seen them coming from so high up, but there didn’t appear to be anyone keeping a look out.

“We’ll leave the horses and sneak up through that grove to try to find a way in,” Bobbi said quietly. 

Fitz and Grant nodded their understanding, and the trio tied up their horses and crept quietly through the underbrush. A thin line of trees ran almost the entire way up to the fortress, giving them enough cover to make it nearly to outer wall. 

Grant looked around once they reached the rampart and then motioned for Fitz and Bobbi to follow him through a gap in the façade where it seemed the fortress had been hit by one catapult too many. 

Through the wall was a courtyard littered with rubble, easy cover for the three of them as they crept closer to the central fortress. 

Hearty laughter from within the walls stopped them. 

Grant put a finger to her lips and motioned for Bobbi and Fitz to follow his lead, leaning up against the side of the citadel next to a heavy wooden door set in the rock that didn’t sit right on its hinges, voices drifting easily through the gaps above and below the wood. 

“She’s a very pretty thing,” a male voice said above the laughter. He sounded older, maybe in his 50s or 60s, but there was an edge to his words that made Fitz uneasy. 

“You should be nicer to her, Malick,” another voice replied, younger, less disconcerting. “She’s smart as well as pretty.” 

“Didn’t seem so smart when I snatched her last night,” the first voice, Malick, replied to new waves of laughter. 

Fitz’s hands balled themselves into fists. This was the man who had taken Jemma.

“She hasn’t begged or wept or any of those typical maiden things, though,” the younger voice replied thoughtfully. “She’s been very defiant.”

“Feisty,” Malick replied, in the same tone that a glutton would use to comment on a particularly delicious looking piece of meat.

Fitz had the momentary urge to throttle Malick for whatever he might be thinking. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Bobbi staring at him, her eyes wide. 

Fitz realized that he had been shaking, his anger at the men inside so great. He took a deep breath and nodded to Bobbi, letting her know that he was okay. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Malick,” the younger voice chastised. 

Fitz was momentarily relieved until the younger man continued. 

“The Master said that the girl’s engaged, or as good as, and he’s really after her fiancé. Once the fiancé’s out of the way, she’ll be free to find someone else.” 

A third voice entered the conversation. “And you think that’ll be you, Will?” the man chortled. “Got yourself a crush?” 

“She likes me already,” Will replied almost arrogantly, “which is far more than can be said of any of _you_. And I have a plan.” 

Fitz turned to let his forehead rest on the rock wall. He needed to save Jemma from these horrible men. 

“Oh, of course, I’m sure the Master would gladly do anything for _you_ ,” Malick commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“He brought me here, didn’t he?” Will replied. “I’d say I’m one of his more valuable assets.” 

“Not the _most_ valuable,” Malick clarified. 

“Of course not,” Will said quickly. “We all know who _that_ is.” 

There was a murmur of assent through the group, which seemed to consist of, Fitz would have guessed, at least 10 or 15 men. He would have bet anything that many of them were the figures he and Jemma had seen emerge from the monolith in the forest only weeks before. 

“Well I must go check on Miss Simmons,” Will said, his cheerful voice setting Fitz’s teeth on edge.

“Has the Master seen her yet?” one of the men asked. 

“Not yet,” Will replied. “But soon.” 

There were footsteps and the sound of a door, apparently Will leaving. 

“Who cares if lover-boy’s got a crush,” Malick said, his words twisted, slimy, “she’s got too pretty a face to pass up.” 

Fitz made a move to run through the door with every intention of attacking Malick, but Grant held him back and pulled him away, Bobbi following, her face a mask of worry. 

“Why did you stop me?” Fitz exploded, as soon as they were safely away from the wall, out of earshot. “Did you hear them? They’re disgusting and horrible, even that guy Will acts as though he’s entitled to her just because he’s not as awful as the others. And Malick…” Fitz stopped, breathing heavily, too angry to continue. 

“Fitz, it’s not worth it,” Grant said evenly, crouching slightly so he could look Fitz firmly in the eyes. “If you ran in there, you’d get killed in a second. There were at least 10 of them, probably more. You running in there to kill Malick with only a dagger won’t help anything.” 

“We have to save her,” Fitz said, feeling tears rising into his eyes. “We have to get her back.” 

“We will, Fitz,” Bobbi said, laying a hand reassuringly on his forearm.

Grant nodded his agreement. “I think I have a plan. There aren’t many of them in there, if there were more, we’d have seen some guards by now. So I’d assume that that door,” he pointed at a smaller, less obvious door in a different section of the wall from where they had been listening, “should be deserted, or almost, at least. If we slip in, I can find Jemma while Bobbi keeps watch. I think we should be more than a match for any of them.” 

“What about me?” Fitz said quickly, his eyes narrowed skeptically.

Grant shook his head. “We can’t risk having you in there. For one thing, Jemma’s only here as a trap for you, and, for another, you almost just burst in there, destroying any chance we have of saving her. You’re too emotionally volatile to come in with us, Fitz. I’m sorry.”

Fitz stared at Grant. “But it’s Jemma. You can’t tell me to wait outside while you save her. I don’t care about myself, I just need her back!” 

Bobbi sighed. “Grant’s right, Fitz. This would just be playing right into Maveth’s hands. You should get away from here, head back to the grove in front of the fortress. There’s a chance that your father could be arriving soon with reinforcements, and someone needs to tell him the situation. It will be much easier for everyone if Grant and I can save Jemma without involving the entire cavalry.” 

Fitz shook his head. “I can’t Bobbi. I can’t abandon her.” 

“You’re _not_ abandoning her. Don’t you trust me?” Bobbi said softly, resting a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. 

“I mean, of course I trust you, but-” 

“Then go,” Bobbi interrupted. “Now. Grant and I will find her.”

Fitz knew, deep down, that Grant and Bobbi were right. What good would it do to Jemma if Fitz marched in and then was captured himself? Bobbi and Grant had both proven themselves more capable than he was, and Maveth had already taken advantage of Fitz’s stupidity once. He couldn’t jeopardize Jemma’s chance at being saved. Fitz finally nodded begrudgingly and turned to go back the way they had come, not bothering to say anything more to Bobbi or Grant. 

As Fitz climbed back through the hole in the outer wall, he glanced back just in time to see his friends disappear through the door. All he could do was hope that Jemma would be okay. 

Fitz quickly crept back through the trees, his eyes and ears open for any sign of more of Maveth’s men or of his father’s army. 

He finally made it back to the grove of trees where they their horses were tied, situated facing east, perfectly below the fortress so he could see in all directions and notice any sign of trouble. 

And then he waited. And waited. And waited. 

And then a lot of things happened all at once. 

Men ran out from the side of the fortress, Grant fighting them back away from the wall, Bobbi nowhere in sight. 

Horns sounded from what sounded like both sides of the grove where Fitz was hiding, and suddenly there were two armies, one from the south led by the Queen, Lady Weaver, and Daisy and one from the north led by the King, Sir John, Mack, and the rest of the women of the Cavalry. 

Fitz stood, about to run over to his father, when movement on the hill past Grant stopped him. 

Jemma. 

She was okay. 

Without a thought, Fitz left the cover of the grove and sprinted toward the woman running down the hill. “JEMMA!” 

She stumbled at his words, but even at a distance he could see her smile as she raced toward him. “FITZ!” 

And for all he knew his parents and friends could have been shouting at him, but Fitz didn’t hear a word. His eyes were locked on Jemma’s and hers were locked on his. 

They finally met in this middle of the field, and Fitz picked Jemma up and twirled her around, holding her close in his arms, both of them laughing, just so grateful to be alive and back together. 

And then, automatically, easily, _thoughtlessly,_ they leaned toward each other and their lips met. 

Fitz spent only a short moment savoring the perfection of finally kissing Jemma Simmons before he finally became cognizant the screams all around him. 

Oh no. 

Fitz and Jemma pulled back from each other instantly, the horror he knew must be in his eyes reflected in Jemma’s. 

She shook her head, not believing. 

“LEO, NO!” 

Fitz turned at his mother’s voice, carrying across the field. 

She had gotten off her horse, Daisy beside her. 

As Fitz made eye contact with his mother, she collapsed to the ground, Daisy holding fast to her. Both women were shaking. There was nothing to be done. 

He turned to the other side of the battlefield where Sir John, Mack, and Lance all looked stunned. The King seemed confused, but as Fitz watched, the realization dawned on him, and he dismounted and made a step towards him. 

“MY SON!” 

But Fitz turned back to Jemma, knowing that she was the most important thing in his entire life. 

Behind her, Grant and the masked men had stopped fighting, and a shadow rose up behind them, but Fitz paid it no attention. If these were the last few moments of his life before the world forgot him, he needed to spend them with Jemma. 

Fitz grabbed her hands as the wind began to pick up around them. “I’m so sorry, Jemma. I should have-” 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Jemma interrupted, shaking her head rapidly, tears in her eyes. “I-” 

She stopped as Fitz began to rise off the ground, her hands the only things tethering him to the earth. 

And Fitz finally had to let go. “I love you, Jemma,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you so much.” 

Wind swirled around him, sand and stone and dirt forming a vortex that picked him up into the air. 

And as Fitz stared down through the swirling wind he saw her lips form the words, “I love you, Fitz.” 

And then everything went black.


	13. All Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit darker from here, just be warned. Fitz is on his own.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Fitz opened his eyes, he was lying on his back. As he struggled to get his bearings, he realized that it was now dark outside and that it was very cold. 

He sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of his head, which was throbbing painfully. 

He looked around, his eyes working to make out objects in the darkness. He was still in the middle of the field where he had kissed Jemma, the wood behind him and the fortress in front of him. Both appeared deserted. Gone were his father and Grant’s armies, and it seemed Maveth’s forces had moved out as well. Fitz was perfectly alone. 

Finally he stood up, stumbling slightly as he tried to regain his balance. His legs were stiff and his mind felt cloudy, like it was still waking up. Whatever the curse had done in knocking him unconscious had taken something out of him. 

He walked toward the trees, stretching his legs as he went, hoping against hope that his horse had been left behind. 

But he had no such luck. Gone were all three of the horses that had been tethered in the grove that morning, along with all their supplies. The only signs that he, Bobbi, and Grant had been there at all were the hoof prints in the dirt, nothing more. 

Fitz took a deep breath and sank down against a tree trunk, rubbing his arms to try to keep warm. 

It had all started with the cold. If it hadn’t been so cold that Jemma needed a second blanket, she wouldn’t have left the fire and wouldn’t have been kidnapped and Fitz wouldn’t have gone to rescue her and he wouldn’t have kissed her because he was so happy to see that she was alive and the curse wouldn’t have been activated and he wouldn’t have been left here alone, about to freeze to death. 

Actually… Fitz narrowed his eyes, thinking. Why was he alone? Surely even if everyone had forgotten who he was, they wouldn’t have left an unconscious teenager dressed in royal finery lying in the middle of a field between two armies and an evil sorcerer. Right? That seemed like a serious oversight on the part of his parents. Unless something had driven all of them away. But, even so, nothing added up. He tried to remember those last moments before he went unconscious. Grant had been fighting with some of Maveth’s men, but they had stopped to watch Fitz. And then there was that shadow behind Grant… it must have been Maveth, come out to watch his handiwork. But what had happened to Bobbi? Shouldn’t she have been helping Grant or at least getting Jemma to safety? But Fitz hadn’t seen her since she stepped through the door into the fortress following Grant. Could something have happened to her? Fitz hated to think about it. 

He took a deep breath and stood up. He wasn’t doing himself any good at all freezing to death in the woods. His only real chance of keeping warm and hopefully finding some clues about what had happened to his friends and family was to go up to the fortress. At any rate, the walls would keep out the wind and that alone would be an improvement. 

Fitz walked up to the fortress, all the time keeping his eyes open for any sign of Maveth’s men or his father’s cavalry, but he saw nothing. As he crept in through the back, the same way he had entered with Bobbi and Grant earlier, he was assured that the fortress had been evacuated. There were signs of men having left quickly through the back: provisions spilled on the ground and not gathered up, the door they had listened at earlier wide open, swinging on its hinges in the wind. 

Fitz stepped inside quietly but found the fortress dark and silent, save a slight glowing in the hearth. He finally allowed himself to smile as he hurried toward the dying embers. It seemed that in their hurry to leave, no one had bothered to properly put out the fire. Fitz had never been more grateful for a potential fire hazard in his life. 

He was quickly able to build the glowing coals into a moderately sized fire, having had plenty of practice down in the basement lab where drafts often all-but-extinguished the fire while he and Jemma were working. 

Fitz sighed gratefully, warming his hands by the flames, and then he stood up to better examine his surroundings. 

The room was decent-sized with two tables that would each hold at least 10 or 20 men. He dug through a pile of bags in one corner and found a warm black cape, which he quickly put on, as well as some tough bread, which he ate greedily, not caring about the dryness that usually would have been tempered by some sort of soup or stew. No longer hungry and pleasantly warm in front of the fire, Fitz found he was dreadfully tired, so he pillowed part of the cloak under his head and curled up on the hearth, taking care not to get too close to the flames. 

Fitz woke up the next morning rather cold. The fire had died down, though it mercifully hadn’t gone out completely. Fitz built it back up again and ate more of the bread he had found, though he found it less appetizing than he had the night before. Fitz knew he was just keeping busy to avoid thinking about the events of the previous day, but he let himself pretend that everything was okay as he began to explore the rest of the fortress. 

Most rooms were empty. One appeared to be the armory, though there were no weapons left inside, and there was a kitchen, though his search for more food proved fruitless. A few rooms had piles of straw lying about, apparently having been used as sleeping quarters for the men. There were two turrets with winding staircases. One had broken off at the front, but part of the structure remained. Fitz walked up through it but found that the air felt very strange. He would have bet anything that this is where Maveth had stayed while he had been there. 

The other turret was intact and led to a room that was actually furnished, as though the inhabitant had been staying there for some length of time or at least was planning to stay. All recognizable personal effects were missing, but there were still some clothes in the drawers and a blanket on the bed. Fitz set down on the straw mattress for a moment when he noticed a scrap of paper poking out from inside it. 

Fitz pulled it out curiously but almost dropped it when he saw the words on the page. It was a letter written by Jemma.

_Dear_

_I will try to escape this night, and if you have followed me here and found this, as I’m sure you will, know that I will return to you soon. I love you._

_Yours always,  
_ _Jemma_

It was just a couple short lines, certainly meant for him, but Fitz could only stare at the greeting. Not “Dear Fitz” or even dear anyone else. It was as though a name, his name, had been written there but had been siphoned away.

And then Fitz knew. It was the curse, erasing Fitz from Jemma’s words, from Jemma’s life, from Jemma’s memory. And Fitz could do nothing but curl up on the bed where the woman he loved had been only the day before and cry. He buried his face in the black cloak that was still wrapped around him, one fist clenched, the other open so as not to hurt the only bit of Jemma he had. How could Maveth do something like this? How could he take away his family, his friends, his Jemma? It wasn’t fair that their first kiss had to also be their last. 

In his mind, he recalled Jemma’s face, the last thing he had seen before the curse had taken everyone away from him. Jemma telling him that she loved him, needing him to know that he would always be hers even if she didn’t remember. 

Fitz let himself cry there as his mind worked over what to do. He had to find Jemma, didn’t he? He needed to make sure that Bobbi was okay. But the thought that actually made him stand up and wipe the tears from his eyes was the realization that something very odd had happened in the armies and Maveth’s men leaving the field so quickly, and, anything else aside, he had to figure out what had happened. Something didn’t feel right, and Fitz needed to be sure that his family and friends were not in danger.

So he took a deep breath and wrapped up the blanket, knowing that it would certainly be helpful on the road, and then he folded the letter and placed it in the pocket of the cloak, needing to keep the last piece of Jemma with him. He quickly realized that the pocket was not actually empty, but rather contained a small sum of money. Fitz smiled slightly, seeing that it was enough for a few nights at an inn. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about freezing to death in the woods. 

So Fitz packed what was left of the food, the blanket, and some clothing he took from the dresser into one of the bags the men had left behind, keeping the cloak on with Jemma’s letter tucked safely inside, and then he covered the coals in the fireplace and headed out through the front door this time, not seeing why he would need to use the back. 

The sun was shining, making it seem more like a crisp fall day than a freezing winter one, much to Fitz’s gratitude, and walking itself kept him warm. He wasn’t quite sure of the way, but he knew how to follow the sun and that his palace was nearly dead south of the fortress. 

By nightfall, he had reached a village with a cheery-looking inn where Fitz quickly rented a room, grateful to see that there was space available. 

The man running the inn didn’t give Fitz a second glance as he took his money, a sign that things with the curse were worse than he feared. Maveth had not been very clear on the exact parameters of the spell, and even Fitz’s father, who had spent a good deal of time researching it, had been unsure if the effects would apply to just those in the castle or just people Fitz had met personally or to the entire kingdom. But Fitz knew that if the prince had very publically booked a room at an inn alone, someone would have at least been staring at him, but Fitz was noticed by no one. 

“I heard the King came through here yesterday,” Fitz said casually to the innkeeper and a few of the other men sitting around the fire. 

The innkeeper nodded. “The King, the Queen, a few other royals, and two entire armies!” The older man stretched his arms out to represent the size of the forces. 

“Uh, was the prince with them?” Fitz said after a moment, hoping for any sort of recognition. 

But the group of men just stared at him.

“What prince?” the innkeeper asked. “There’s no prince.” 

Fitz deflated at the man’s words. 

“Maybe he means King Grant,” another man piped up. “Course he hasn’t been prince for a while, but he used to be. And then there’s Princess Daisy too.” 

The innkeeper nodded appraisingly. “That’s true. They both came through here yesterday.”

“So the King and Queen don’t have any children?” Fitz asked, needing to hear the words explicitly.

“Course they don’t,” the innkeeper laughed, giving Fitz an odd look. “Everyone knows that. You aren’t from around here are you?” 

Fitz shook his head, feeling as though he was telling the truth based on how lost he felt. “No. I’m not.”

The innkeeper smiled at him kindly as though he were some sort of simpleton. “Ah, well then, King Coulson and Queen Audrey are childless. Actually, it’s kind of a tricky situation, I’ve heard. No one really knows who the heir is once the king dies. There aren’t really any legitimate, living claims on the throne.” 

Fitz nodded his understanding, though of course he already knew that besides himself, the King really didn’t have any sort of heir and that the kingdom would likely have been thrown into chaos at some point had Fitz not existed. 

“They’re good rulers though,” Fitz said after a moment, “or I’ve heard so at any rate.” 

The innkeeper nodded quickly. “They are, certainly. That’s why they were up here with King Grant, trying to take on the sorcerer. And they must have done something, since I’ve heard he’s gone away for the winter. Seems even sorcerers don’t much like the cold.” 

The other men laughed heartily at the innkeeper’s joke. 

“Sorcerer?” Fitz asked, deciding that he would be best able to collect information if he pretended to know nothing. 

“You really _aren’t_ from around here then.” The innkeeper shook his head slowly. “Well, a sorcerer was terrorizing a village up North, but now he’s stopped. I’d say he’s regrouping, and the King is doing the same. He really is a good man.” 

“Don’t know if I’d say the same about King Grant,” the innkeeper’s friend interjected. 

The innkeeper frowned slightly. “Oh yes, he strikes me a bit odd.” 

There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the group in front of the fire. 

Fitz narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking. He had always felt like there was something off about Grant, as though he was putting on some sort of mask, but then again he’d been so helpful in saving Jemma; Fitz knew he never could have done it without him. Fitz shook his head slightly. Just another bit of the puzzle for him to figure out. 

“So where are you from, then?” the innkeeper asked Fitz curiously. 

“Uh, far away,” Fitz said evasively. “Long ways off.” 

The innkeeper raised his eyebrows but let it go. “You have a name?” 

“Fitz,” he said automatically, but then regretted it. “John Fitz,” he clarified, deciding that calling himself Leopold when that was the name of the king’s father would just attract attention to himself, and Fitz didn’t particularly want that. He wanted to collect information about the extent of the curse and what had happened after he had been knocked unconscious, but there was no need for him to become the center of attention. 

“Good to meet you, Fitz,” the innkeeper said, shaking Fitz’s hand. “Henry Albelin, at your service. What is it that you do?” 

Fitz hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go with the nearest thing to the truth he could manage. “I’m a scientist.” 

All the men by the fire looked up with interest. 

“A scientist?” Albelin said, intrigued. “Aren’t you a bit young?” 

Fitz shrugged noncommittally. 

“Never met a scientist before,” Albelin continued, with interest, “though I’ve heard they’ve some nice scientific things down at the palace.” 

Fitz nodded and seized the opportunity. “Yes, I’d heard, that’s where I’m headed. I thought it would be a good place for my research, if they’ll have me.” 

“You’ll need a horse then, for certain,” Albelin said quickly. “I can hire you one to a post couple day’s ride to the South if you’re keen.” 

“I am, thank you,” Fitz said gratefully. As nice as it was not to be riding after days and days spent on horseback, it really was so much quicker. 

The conversation soon turned away from him and back to general business of the village, and Fitz slipped away for the night. 

The next morning, true to his word, Albelin provided Fitz with a horse and directions on where to stay the next night. 

Fitz nodded his thanks and rode away. 

The day was uneventful. He came across very few people on his journey, the cold weather dissuading people from traveling, but by evening he had reached the inn Albelin had referred him to. Fitz spoke with a few of the men talking in the common area, but he found that he really was exhausted. Still no one recognized him, and no one noticed when he left. 

By the following night he had made it to the post where Albelin had told him to leave the horse, and Fitz knew that he was only half a day’s walk from the palace. 

Fitz secured himself a room at the inn with only a small sum of money remaining, grateful once again for whatever man had left the fortress so quickly that he had forgotten to take along his moneybag. He found some food and then took a seat by the fire. 

After a while, a man sat down next to him.

Fitz looked over at his new companion with a casual curiosity which turned quickly to intense interest when he realized who the man was. Fitz had not seen Master Sitwell, the tutor who had directed he and Jemma’s study of astronomy for several months when they had been 10 or 11, since the end of his brief stint at the palace. Master Sitwell had been rude and pompous, treating Jemma terribly even as he bowed and scraped to Fitz, and here he was, in the flesh, more than 5 years later, the first person Fitz had recognized in days. 

“Yes?” Master Sitwell said sharply, narrowing his eyes at Fitz who had been staring. 

Fitz shook his head slightly. “Oh, sorry, just you look like someone I used to know.” 

Master Sitwell shifted in his chair, his expression one of haughty superiority. “Right. Or perhaps you’re one of the common folk, unsure of how to behave in the presence of someone as well-educated as myself.” 

Fitz fought the urge to laugh at Master Sitwell’s complete and utter lack of self-awareness as he replied. “Actually, I’m a scientist, very well educated.” 

Master Sitwell leaned forward slightly at this pronouncement. “Oh really?” 

“Yes, sir,” Fitz replied with polite smile that he felt Master Sitwell really didn’t deserve. 

“I am a teacher of astronomy,” Master Sitwell replied, refocusing the attention on himself. “Master Jasper Sitwell, at your service.” He gave a nod that Fitz assumed was supposed to constitute a bow. “I’m currently on my way from the home of the Furnival family to that of the Touchet family – both are very prominent members of the nobility of this area,” he explained. 

Fitz knew for a fact that both the Furnival and Touchet families were on the decline and that neither had been particularly prominent to begin with, but he nodded anyway. 

“My knowledge is in high demand, you see,” Master Sitwell added for emphasis. 

Fitz fought back a laugh.

“I could probably teach you a thing or two,” Master Sitwell continued, sitting back in his chair, and he proceded to launch into a bombastic, and flawed, explanation of basic astronomy that Fitz had known since before he had met Master Sitwell the last time.

Fitz would have been amused if it hadn’t been so annoying. 

“That’s very interesting, Master Sitwell,” Fitz interrupted after the other man’s speech had gone on for far too long. “Thank you.” 

Master Sitwell smiled at him with a pretentious graciousness. “You’re welcome…” He paused. 

“Fitz,” Fitz inserted quickly. “John Fitz.” 

Master Sitwell looked at him appraisingly. “You can’t be more than 17.” 

“I was 16 this past August,” Fitz affirmed. 

Master Sitwell frowned slightly, almost impressed. “Where are you headed then?” 

“The palace,” Fitz answered. “I’ve heard of their lab and wish to work there, if the King will have me.” 

Master Sitwell sat up taller in his chair, his eyes widening. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” 

“What? Why?” Fitz hadn’t heard about anything bad happening at the palace, but he was instantly worried by Master Sitwell’s tone. 

“I worked at the palace some years back, and I was not well treated,” Master Sitwell clarified.

Fitz took a breath, relieved that Master Sitwell had just been thinking about himself and not talking about any legitimate problem. “How so?” Fitz asked after a moment. 

“I was hired to be a tutor for a young girl the king and queen had taken an interest in,” he explained, “and she was horribly rude and not at all grateful for the opportunity that had been given to her.” 

Fitz’s breath hitched in his throat. The phrase, “Excuse me, Master Sitwell, but I thought you were meant to teach us astronomy not gender roles,” came back to him quickly in the voice of a 10-year-old Jemma. In this world where Fitz was forgotten, Jemma had taken astronomy alone. 

“I’ll have to look out for that, I suppose,” Fitz said after a moment. “But I really should get some sleep. Very nice to meet you, Master Sitwell.” He held out his hand. 

Master Sitwell shook it. “I hope I’ve taught you something, young Fitz.” 

Fitz nodded again and left, rolling his eyes as soon as he was sure that Master Sitwell couldn’t see him. 

As soon as Fitz was alone in his room, he allowed himself to laugh. Master Sitwell was just as bitter and self-important as he had been five years before, and Fitz couldn’t believe that the man _still_ hadn’t gotten over Jemma’s comments (after Master Sitwell himself had clearly been in the wrong) all these years later. 

_I can’t wait to tell Jemma,_ Fitz thought to himself but then stopped. How could he tell Jemma if she didn’t remember him? 

He’d been completely written out of everyone’s lives, from the common people of the kingdom, to their old tutor, and presumable his family and friends and the one person he cared about more than anything. Fitz knew that even if every single person in the world had forgotten him, he would have been fine as long as he had Jemma, but the curse had taken her away from him too, or, rather, it had taken him away from her. Fitz didn’t know what he was supposed to do without her. 

Fitz sniffled and wiped at his eyes. He had barely noticed that he’d started crying. 

Sleep was the only thing Fitz could think of to take his mind of everything, so he blew out the candle that was illuminating the room and crawled into bed. 

He dreamed he was a child back at the palace, running around the grounds with Jemma, not a care in the world, as they joked about Master Sitwell and planned to meet Lady Mackenzie for tea.

When he woke up he was almost happy for a moment, before he remembered. 

Fitz started late, despite waking early. The walk to the palace was one he knew well, but he felt a strange sense of foreboding. The scenery became more and more familiar as the hours passed. He recognized trees and houses and picnic spots where he and Jemma had been taken by Lady Hand or, more often, Dame Isobel. Fitz felt very clearly as though he was coming home, but, somehow, at the same time, he was terrified. 

And so, at just about midday, Fitz approached the gates, running through his story in his head. His name was John Fitz. He was a scientist researching medicine and ways of reducing injuries on the battlefield (which was partly true at least; he and Jemma had done quite a bit of work with this). He had heard much about the laboratory at the palace and would like to ask if he could work there for the King for the winter. Straightforward enough. 

Fitz saw a whole group of men, rather than the usual pair of guards, at the gate as he approached. 

A few steps later Fitz realized that it was actually a number of cavalrymen, and, what was more, right at the front, nearest the gate and nearest Fitz, were Mack and Lance. 

Fitz nearly stopped there, but he forced himself to keep going, holding his breath, waiting for a sign, any sign, that his friends recognized him, that he wasn’t entirely forgotten. 

“You! Halt!” 

Fitz stopped at the voice of one of the cavalrymen. 

Mack stepped forward as the senior knight of the group. Just a gate and a few feet separated him from Fitz. 

“Who are you?” 

Fitz let out the breath, his face falling. It was no use. He was forgotten. “John Fitz,” he said, sighing. “I’m a scientist.” 

This was his life now, and he had to get used to it.


	14. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the absolutely horrific delay in posting this. The end of the semester was insane, and I was working non-stop through exam week. But it's finally break so I'll have another chapter up within the week for sure and hopefully we can get back to our usual chapter a week, or at least every other week. The goal is to have this done before the season's over, so hopefully that works out.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. You all are the greatest ever.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Fitz?” Mack stared at him appraisingly through the gate. “That was the name of my wife’s first husband. Did you happen to have a cousin named Eoin?” 

Fitz shrugged rather than make up a fake family history. “There could have been one somewhere down the line; there’s a lot of Fitzes.” 

Mack nodded. “He would have been a good bit older than you anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “How old _are_ you? You seem a little young to be scientist.” 

“I was sixteen in August,” Fitz replied, raising his eyebrows slightly, knowing that Mack of all people should have no problem believing that a teenager could know a lot about science. 

Mack and Lance exchanged glances. 

“That’s funny,” Lance said slowly. 

“What’s funny?” Fitz asked as though he didn’t already know what was coming. 

“Our resident scientist is only sixteen too,” Lance replied.

“Oh really?” Fitz said, concentrating on being as believable as possible. “What kind of science does he do?” If Fitz wasn’t suspicious already, he certainly would have been had he admitted to already knowing that the scientist was a girl. 

“It’s a young lady, actually,” Lance corrected, a note of pride in his voice that almost made Fitz smile. “She works a lot with medicine and injuries and various natural phenomena.” 

Fitz fought back a laugh, knowing that “various natural phenomena” was a direct quote from Jemma that Lance would have never come up with on his own. 

Beside Lance, Mack himself was laughing uproariously at the shorter man’s pretended knowledge. 

“That’s very interesting,” Fitz said, trying his best to ignore Mack’s laughter (and Lance’s glare at his friend). “I’ve been working on ways to reduce deaths on the battlefield as well as ways to treat injured men. I’d love to meet this scientist.” Fitz knew it was a little forward to say that he would “love” to meet Jemma, but he couldn’t really stop himself. He had always heard that the best way to lie was to stick as closely as possible to the truth, and certainly his wanting to see Jemma was nothing but the truth. 

“Is that what you’re here for then?” Mack took over again, back to business, though there was still laughter behind his eyes. 

Fitz nodded. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about the lab at the palace, and I’m in need of a place to work for these winter months. If the king would be so gracious, I would like to work here in his name.” 

Mack and Lance looked at each other in silent conversation that Fitz could understand since he knew both men so well. Both were skeptical, he could see, but neither was threatened by him, and Fitz knew before they told him that he was going to be admitted through the gates. 

Leaving one of the other men – Sir Richard, Fitz recognized – in charge, Mack and Lance led Fitz down the path toward the castle. 

“I’m Sir Alphonso Mackenzie, by the way,” Mack introduced himself. “And this is Sir Lance Hunter.” 

Fitz nodded politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

Mack and Lance asked casual questions about where Fitz was from and where he had learned about medicine, to which Fitz responded with vague answers, though not vague enough to warrant him being removed from the premises. 

“You have a family?” Mack asked as they approached the buildings outside the main palace walls. 

“I do,” Fitz replied, but then he amended his statement. “Well, I did.” 

Lance threw him a sympathetic glance. 

“Do you both have families?” Fitz asked after a moment. 

“My wife and I have no children,” Mack replied. “Her sister has a daughter though, Jemma. She’s been like a child to us. She’s actually the scientist you’ll be meeting.” 

Fitz smiled, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check. “And you, Sir Lance?” 

A shadow crossed Lance’s face, and Fitz instantly grew worried. Had something happened to Bobbi? 

“His wife was injured rather recently,” Mack said quickly. “She’ll soon recover, but Lance has been very worried. They have no children either, though they certainly feel some sort of parental affection for our Jemma, and even for Princess Daisy. She and her brother, King Grant, are staying at the palace for the winter as well.” 

Fitz nodded, still concerned. “I had heard something to that effect at an inn on my way here.” He watched Lance from the corner of his eye. The typically jovial and teasing man was far more solemn than Fitz had ever seen him. It was beyond disconcerting. 

The men finished their walk in silence, leaving Fitz to look around at the home that had forgotten him. He had walked down this path a hundred times before, but never had he done it as a stranger. 

They walked by the forge where the swordmaker who had once been so irritated by Fitz hanging around barely looked up as they passed. 

They next came to the stable where Fitz could see several squires and stable boys taking care of horses. Fitz’s own horse stood right near the front beside Jemma’s, and Fitz was grateful that it had made it home, even if Fitz hadn’t. 

As they entered the palace, Fitz pretended to be amazed by the beauty of the architecture and artwork. Of course, it was beautiful, but it was all so usual a sight for Fitz that he had never really given it much thought. 

“You’ve never seen the palace before, have you?” Mack remarked, grinning good-naturedly. 

Fitz shook his head, grateful for the acknowledgement that he was actually being convincing. 

Mack waited with Fitz in the foyer as Lance hurried off to see if the king was even available to meet with Fitz. 

“Do you live here regularly, or are you just here because of all the conflict up north?” Fitz asked conversationally. 

Mack smiled slightly. “No, I live here, Lance too. There’s a good group of knights that stay in the palace. The king needed some extra assistance a good decade and a half back, and I just never left. I met my Maggie, who was still suffering from the loss of her husband the previous year. His mother lived here, so she and her sister didn’t want to leave, and I just stayed too. I’m glad of it. It’s been wonderful to watch Jemma grow up, and the king is very good to all of us. There’s nowhere else I can imaging calling home.” 

Fitz kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to betray how moved he was by Mack’s words. Fitz knew Mack incredibly well, but it was odd to hear him be so sentimental.

“That’s certainly nice to have.” There was a bitter edge to Fitz’s voice that he hadn’t anticipated. 

Before Mack could respond, Lance returned. 

“The King can see you now, if you’ll follow me,” Lance said, sounding more like usual Lance than he had earlier. 

“Is the Queen with him?” Mack asked, his eyes troubled.

Lance shook his head. “She’s still feeling poorly, I’m afraid.”

“Is there something wrong?” Fitz interjected before he could stop himself, his voice filled with worry. 

Mack looked at him oddly. “The queen’s been under the weather since we’ve returned, that’s all.” 

Fitz nodded quickly, shrinking back slightly, grateful that nothing was terribly wrong with his mother, but not wanting to make any more of a scene.

Fitz followed Mack and Lance down the familiar corridor to the throne room. He wasn’t sure when he had last been inside. It might not have even been since his father told him about Maveth two years previously. Another lifetime ago. 

Mack and Lance opened the doors, and Fitz followed them inside. 

The King was seated on his throne at the far end of the room with pageboys at attention on either side. He was in deep, whispered conversation with Doctor Garner, May’s husband Fitz now knew. Both men were grime-faced, and Fitz instantly grew worried. 

“Master John Fitz, Your Majesty,” Mack introduced with a bow, Fitz instantly bowing himself behind Mack. 

Fitz nearly laughed at the title of “Master,” but he was supposed to be a scientist after all. 

The King dismissed Doctor Garner with a nod and then directed his attention to Fitz, raising his eyebrows as his eyes fell upon him. “You’re very young, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sixteen, Your Majesty,” Fitz said formally. “But I’ve had a good deal of experience. I’ve worked treating injuries in the Northern raids.” Fitz was grateful that he’d absorbed enough political information from his father and Daisy in the past two years that he knew where various smugglers raids had been and that the raids in the north the previous year had been particularly bloody. 

The King leaned forward slightly in his chair, clearly interested. “The Northern raids, you say? That’s all been straightened out, hasn’t it?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Fitz replied, knowing that a messenger to his father had said so months ago. “But because of those injuries, I’ve been working on ways to reduce deaths on the battlefield and to better treat injuries. I have a good background in the natural sciences, as well as astronomy, and I’ve worked in a lab for years. I’m rather good at building things as well.”

“And you wish to work here?” the King asked. 

“Yes, for the winter,” Fitz replied. “If Your Majesty will have me.” 

The King frowned slightly. “You might get on well with Miss Simmons. She’s the noblewoman who runs our lab. She’s just your age.” 

Fitz nodded. “Yes, Sir Alphonso and Sir Lance were just telling me. I was quite impressed to hear of another scientist so young. She must be brilliant.” 

The King smiled slightly. “Yes, my wife and I saw great potential in her when she was young, and we determined that she should be as well educated as possible. We have no children of our own, you see.” 

Fitz swallowed hard. “That is a great thing Your Majesty has done for her. Science is so very important, and to give an opportunity like that to a noblewoman truly shows a greatness of character. Your Majesty is most generous and Miss Simmons must be most grateful.” Fitz knew that his father was less swayed by flattery than many kings or even noblemen, but if Fitz was playing the part of a scientist trying to secure a place at a royal household, flattery was certainly to be expected. 

“I believe we are more indebted to Miss Simmons than she will ever be to us,” the King replied.

Fitz fought back a smile, filled with nothing but pride for Jemma. 

“Peter!” 

One of the pages turned to the King. “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

“Have Miss Montgomery prepare the blue bedroom for Master Fitz to stay indefinitely.” 

Fitz let out a breath and finally allowed himself to smile. “Thank you so much, Your Majesty.” 

The King nodded at him. “Sir Alphonso, would you show Master Fitz where he will be staying and then introduce him to Miss Simmons. Is she still working with that knight of King Grant’s?” 

“I believe so, Your Majesty,” Mack replied. He bowed and gestured for Fitz to follow him. 

A knight of Grant’s? Fitz had no idea who that could mean. He felt a strange sense of foreboding as he followed back out of the room, but words from his father drove that concern from his mind. 

“Lance, how is Bobbi?” 

“Unchanged, Your Majesty,” Lance replied, his voice shaky. “We still aren’t sure what happened to her.” 

Fitz couldn’t see his face, but Lance’s tone of voice was unlike any he had ever heard from the other man. Fitz found it very difficult not to turn around and go to his friend. 

“Lance’s wife Bobbi was hurt during a rescue mission a week ago,” Mack explained quietly as he let the doors close behind them and led Fitz down the corridor. “Our Jemma had been kidnapped, and Bobbi and King Grant went to rescue her. They were separated, and no one knows what happened. King Grant saved Jemma, and he was fighting with some evil men, but the next moment one of his knights was running out of the fortress carrying Bobbi, unconscious. And then we retreated as quickly as we could. Winter was taking its toll on everyone.”

Fitz nodded his understanding as he tried to piece everything together. The curse had taken effect between Grant saving Jemma and whoever this other knight was bringing out Bobbi. But Fitz had no idea where one of Grant’s knights would have come from. It had just been Grant and Bobbi in the fortress… 

“Here you are.” Mack stopped outside one of the rooms off the corridor that led to the lab. It was a fairly plain room that had often been inhabited by some tutor or other over the years. Fitz was just grateful for a warm bed to sleep in, though he couldn’t help but miss his bedroom back in the royal quarters of the palace. 

Fitz dumped his cloak and the bag that contained the clothing he had been wearing at the fortress plus a couple shirts and a pair of trousers that he had stolen from the tower room where Jemma had been held captive, on a chair, planning to maybe put them away later. He was about to rejoin Mack outside when he stopped and pulled Jemma’s letter out of the pocket of the cloak and stuffed it into the pocket of his trousers. It was the most valuable possession he had. A last little bit of his Jemma. 

“All set?” Mack asked as Fitz rejoined him.

Fitz nodded in reply. 

“Well the lab’s just down this way. I-”

“Alphonso!” 

Mack turned around, his face lighting up. 

Fitz knew what was coming. 

“Maggie! Isobel! Agnes! It’s lovely to see you all.” 

Fitz turned around and, sure enough, there was Lady Mackenzie, Dame Isobel, and Lady Simmons, all smiling at Mack and glancing over at Fitz curiously. 

“Who’s your new friend?” Dame Isobel asked, smiling in a way Fitz knew well, part-friendly, part-teasing. 

“This is Master John Fitz,” Mack introduced. “He’s a scientist working at the palace for the winter.” He turned to Fitz. “And this is my wife Lady Margaret Mackenzie, her sister Lady Agnes Simmons, and Dame Isobel Fitz.” 

Fitz pretended to look intrigued by Dame Isobel’s last name. 

“Another Fitz then!” Dame Isobel said grinning. “I have a few sons off in the far reaches of the kingdom who rarely write home to their mother. I do hope you’re not a grandchild I’ve not been informed about.” 

Fitz forced a laugh. “I don’t believe so, um, Dame Isobel.” 

Lady Mackenzie looked uncomfortable, and Fitz knew she was thinking about Eoin. Fitz, for his part, was remembering the last time he had seen Lady Mackenzie and Dame Isobel, standing in to corridor by the foyer. Lady Mackenzie had been worried as she told Fitz to figure out how to destroy Maveth. And Dame Isobel had been anything _but_ worried as she told Fitz to remember true love. Fitz wasn’t quite sure what good that advice was going to do him now. 

“Will you be working with my Jemma?” Lady Simmons asked curiously.

Fitz breathed in quickly and nodded. If there had been any good in the world, Lady Simmons would have been his mother-in-law by now instead of a woman who had just met him for the first time. 

“Oh good,” Lady Simmons replied with a smile that was so like Jemma’s. “Jemma’s been needing someone else down in the lab.” 

“She does have that knight who rescued Bobbi,” Lady Mackenzie said, frowning slightly. 

Lady Simmons nodded seriously. “That’s true. Though I haven’t really gotten to know Sir William at all. Have you spoken much with him, Alphonso?” 

Mack shook his head. “Little more than when we met on the battlefield.” 

“Hmm. We must have to have him for tea then,” Lady Simmons said with some finality. 

“We certainly must,” Mack agreed. “I’m taking Master Fitz down to meet Jemma right now.” 

“You must come to tea as well, Master Fitz,” Dame Isobel added quickly. “We always have quite the party, and we need more young folks to lighten things up.” 

“I would be honored, Dame Isobel,” Fitz replied with a nod.

“Now, we must get on,” Mack said glancing down the hallway toward the lab. “I’ll see you all later.” He kissed his wife, and he and Fitz said their farewells. 

“Everyone’s so kind here,” Fitz said after a moment. 

Mack smiled. “I'm glad you think so.” 

Mack pulled open the door to the basement, and Fitz followed him down the familiar steps to the lab. It was home. But Fitz was much too nervous to be happy. 

Because right there at the bottom of the stairs was Jemma. 

The logical, scientific part of Fitz knew that after not being recognized by Master Sitwell or Mack or his father or any of his other friends, there was no chance that Jemma wouldn’t recognize him. But he couldn’t stop himself from hoping. Because if even just Jemma remembered him, Fitz would be okay; he could survive anything with Jemma. 

But even the logical part of Fitz wasn’t prepared for the degree of indifference, the utter lack of interest, let alone recognition, let alone _love,_ that he found on Jemma’s face. 

“Jemma, this is Master John Fitz. He’s another scientist that will be working at the palace for the winter,” Mack introduced hesitantly. “And Master Fitz, this is Miss Jemma Simmons, our resident scientist, and Sir William Daniels of the cavalry of King Grant.”

Fitz hadn’t registered the presence beside Jemma. Sir William was taller, older, handsome with a glinting smile that he flashed at Fitz before nodding. He reminded Fitz almost of Grant. Perhaps all men in Grant’s kingdom had that odd, uneasy comfort about them. 

“How do you do, Miss Simmons,” Fitz said after a moment, suddenly realizing it was his turn to speak. 

“Quite well, thank you, Master Fitz,” Jemma replied, her words too formal, her eyes wary. 

“I must take my leave,” Mack said glancing between the three of them before bowing and hurrying back the way they had come. 

“Where do you come from, Master Fitz?” Jemma said, crossing her arms in front of herself. 

“Up north,” Fitz replied, keeping his words brief in the face of Jemma’s odd stare. 

“And you’re a scientist?” 

“Yes, J- Miss Simmons.” Fitz hadn’t stumbled over any of his friends’ formal titles yet, but this was Jemma. Not calling her Jemma was nearly impossible.

Jemma narrowed her eyes at his almost slip-up. “What kind of science?” 

“I have a fairly wide background,” Fitz replied quickly, “but I’ve done the most work in battlefield medicine: treating injuries, reducing casualties, that sort of thing.” He paused. “I heard you’ve done a good deal of work with this as well.” 

Jemma nodded, and Fitz could see that she was interested, but it was almost as though that interest was fighting some other emotion. Something not nearly as nice. 

“I’m very excited for us to work together,” Fitz said, looking at his feet, if only for something to break the tension. 

But something in Fitz’s words must have upset Jemma because she said nothing in reply. 

Fitz finally looked up and was met with a sight unlike any he had ever seen before. 

Fitz had known Jemma for essentially their entire lives. He had seen her get angry at her father for missing her birthday after a trip with the cavalry had been delayed coming home, at her mother for not letting her stay out late with Lance and Bobbi, at Master Sitwell that day during their astronomy class, at Raina and Callie at the ball, at Fitz when he had snapped at her when he found out about the curse, but never had Fitz seen a glare like this. This wasn’t just annoyance or frustration or anger… this was hatred. Fitz didn’t know what he had done, but Jemma hated him.

And then his father’s words came back to him, _“he cursed you that though you will be brilliant and hardworking and determined, as soon as you kiss the lips of your true love, all who know you will forget you and your true love will hate you more than anything.”_

It had happened. Jemma hated him, and that thought alone made his head hurt, made his eyes burn as he fought back tears. He felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t even be _near_ Jemma, let alone be _with_ her, because she just wanted him as far away from her as possible. 

Jemma finally turned away from Fitz, pulling Sir William to the corner of the lab. 

Fitz dropped his gaze and took a seat at the bench furthest from Jemma, fingering a small vial as though he was examining the supplies in lab and not trying to eavesdrop on Jemma and Sir William’s conversation. 

Sir William had bent his head down to Jemma’s, much too close for Fitz’s liking. He said something Fitz couldn’t hear, but Fitz’s well-practiced ear that knew Jemma’s voice better than any other sound in the world heard her reply as clear as anything. 

“I have a really bad feeling about him. There’s just something wrong.” 

Sir William said something, but Jemma shook her head. 

“The King’s allowed him to stay, so I can’t do anything about it.” 

Sir William whispered in her ear, a sly grin on his face. 

Jemma blushed slightly, and shoved him away lightly. “Oh, stop it!” 

The wide teasing smile she flashed at Sir William was an expression that Fitz did recognize. He just had never seen it directed at anyone but himself. It seemed that Jemma had… found someone else. 

Fitz took a deep breath, trying to hold it together as well as he could, ignoring the fact that his heart had just been shattered into a million pieces. He stood up under the pretext of examining the books in the lab collection. Anything to get the image of Jemma smiling at Sir William out of his head. 

What couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later, Jemma and Sir William set down whatever it was they were working on. 

“Master Fitz,” Jemma’s voice pulled Fitz from his thoughts. 

He turned to her. 

“Sir William and I are going to get lunch. Would you care to join us?” 

Fitz was absolutely starving, but the glare that accompanied Jemma’s question was enough to make him shake his head quickly. “No, thank you, Miss Simmons.” 

She smiled slightly and then left the lab, Sir William following her without a glance in Fitz’s direction. 

He listened to them walk up the steps and heard the door open and shut behind them, and only then did Fitz allow himself to collapse on his old stool, unable to stop the flood of tears raining down from his eyes. 

The palace wasn’t his palace anymore. This lab wasn’t their lab. This stool wasn’t even his stool; Sir William had been working there for the past fifteen minutes. But worse than all of that… Jemma wasn’t his Jemma anymore. He wasn’t her Fitz. They weren’t best friends, they weren’t in love. Jemma hated him. How was he supposed to come back from that? 

He pulled out Jemma’s note from his pocket as he rubbed his eyes. 

 _Know that I will always return to you_ , she’d written. _I love you. Yours always._  

But this wasn’t something Fitz could believe anymore. There was no more Jemma returning to him. There was no more “I love you,” no more “Yours always.” There was just Jemma glaring at him from across the lab as she flirted with Mr. Perfect, Sir William Daniels, whoever he was. 

Everything he cared about, everything he had loved: it was gone. It was all gone. 

“Death by punishment,” Fitz said aloud. That’s was Maveth’s policy. And now Fitz knew why Maveth had chosen not to kill him. 

Being dead would hurt so much less than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, anything - it's all so appreciated. <3


	15. First Name Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm still like not over Tuesday's AoS and that spectacular Fitzsimmons scene, and I'm so grateful that I've had nothing to do this week because I've been able to just watch that scene a million times and work on this fic. It's been lovely. <3 
> 
> I've gotten a fair bit of the rest of this written, and I've determined that it's going to take 19 chapters to wrap this up rather than the 18 I had planned, but I'll still hopefully have it finished by the time the season's over. Fingers crossed.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

But, regardless of how difficult everything was, Fitz had live with it. 

On the whole, he didn’t regret coming back to the palace. Practically, he needed the lab, and things still weren’t adding up with whatever had happened at the fortress, so, really, it was good that he was there. 

Fitz’s first project now that he was back to work was attempting to make a stronger version of he and Jemma’s unconsciousness solution so he could use it against Maveth, assuming he would actually get a chance to kill the sorcerer. What had been so promising only a week or two ago as he and his friends traveled with Grant to meet up with the King now seemed nearly impossible. Fitz had no idea where Maveth was, none of his friends remembered he existed, the person who’s help he needed most hated him, and he didn’t even know where the monolith was at this point. All evidence pointed against Fitz actually getting to kill Maveth. 

But he had to try. 

Except making compounds had never really been his specialty. This kind of thing had always been Jemma’s area. Fitz had helped, of course, but the original formula had been Jemma’s. 

Finding himself going in circles with the compound, Fitz decided, instead, to look into curses themselves. He knew his father must have done all sorts of research like this back when Fitz had firstbeen cursed, but it couldn’t hurt for Fitz to see it all for himself. 

Plus the afternoons in the library had the added bonus of getting him out of the lab, which Fitz hated but really needed to do. If Jemma’s glares weren’t enough, watching her and Sir William whisper and giggle together was physically painful to him. 

She doesn’t know, Fitz would tell himself. This Jemma had been cursed to hate him just as he’d been cursed to watch. She didn’t know that he loved her far more than this Sir William ever could. 

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Nothing could alter the fact that Fitz was watching the love of his life fall in love with someone else, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Sir William was charming, at least decently smart (otherwise, Fitz knew with certainty, Jemma would have gotten rid of him long ago), and, worst, he seemed to really like Jemma. Or at least he seemed to really like making Jemma think he liked her. 

(Curse or no curse, Fitz was allowing himself to be just a little bitter.) 

Things might have been almost okay if Jemma would just have stopped acting as though Fitz was some sort of evil monster come to torment her, but every time he spoke to her, every time he so much as entered the same room as her, he received a look of such intense hatred that Fitz had to turn away or, better yet, from Jemma’s perspective at least, leave the lab entirely. Fitz loved her so much, but every moment he spent with her now was pure torture. 

But then there were moments, so brief Fitz would have dismissed them if they hadn’t continued to happen, where Jemma narrowed her eyes as though she was trying to remember something but couldn’t quite figure it out, like she recognized him from somewhere but couldn’t place him. 

And so Fitz allowed himself just the smallest bit of hope. 

Mack had visited them all in the lab a few days after Fitz’s arrival to invite Sir William and Fitz to tea that afternoon. 

The glare that Jemma had shot him after Mack was gone was more than enough to keep Fitz from attending. In this twisted reality, they were all Jemma’s friends and not his. 

Before long, Christmas came to the castle, but instead of celebrating in the morning with his parents and then exchanging gifts with Jemma and the rest of his friends in the afternoon as he had every other year he could remember, Fitz found himself secluded in the library, in a chair he had once fallen asleep in with Jemma, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, plus a stack of books on sorcery and curses. 

Not a particularly happy Christmas by any standards. 

The New Year dawned, and things were, if possible, even worse. There were rumors of mysterious activity to the north, nothing as blatant as Maveth’s attack on the village the previous autumn, but, in all likelihood, these cases of bewitchings and black magic and even little things like theft were Maveth’s doing. 

At the palace itself, the queen’s health was not improving, and Bobbi, it seemed, was in a similar state, judging from the increasingly worried looks on Lance’s face whenever Fitz saw him around the palace. Fitz wanted to help, but he knew Jemma was working on it and anything she could do was more likely to be effective than anything from him. She had always been the one who really worked in the infirmary. 

Fitz was getting nowhere with his research on curses, so he decided that he might as well try to look for the monolith, if it was even still around the palace grounds somewhere. It was freezing outside, but the walks let him clear his head and imagine for a moment that everything was okay. That task was far easier to accomplish when he didn’t have Jemma staring daggers at him from across the lab. 

He hiked through the woods to where the monolith had been before, but there was nothing, and the patch of ground was completely covered by freshly fallen snow. He and Jemma (along with Bobbi, Daisy, and May) had sent Lady Weaver to the Queen to bring the monolith to meet them (and specifically Maveth) so they could destroy the sorcerer once and for all. The monolith could have been left behind by the fortress, though Fitz definitely didn’t remember seeing it. More likely, it had been brought back and was now at some secure location that Fitz wouldn’t have access to. It would definitely be suspicious if he started asking questions about a monolith that he, to the knowledge of anyone at the palace, shouldn’t know about. 

But he still kept an eye out as he wandered around the grounds. It was something to do, and he certainly needed that. Fitz had long ago discovered that he worked much better if he had Jemma with him, and, subsequently, his productivity was at an all time low. 

On one of these afternoons, Fitz wandered back into the palace and found himself face-to-face with none other than Grant Ward. 

Fitz quickly lowered himself into a bow. “Your Majesty.” 

Grant seemed startled to have run into someone by the back palace entrance on such a cold day, but as soon as Fitz straightened up and met Grant’s eyes, the king’s expression changed. Instead of being confused, he seemed almost scared for just a brief moment, as though Fitz’s presence itself was some kind of threat. But Grant quickly adjusted his features into the not-quite-genuine smile that Fitz knew well. 

“Who are you, then?” Grant asked, his voice as even as it usually was. 

“Master John Fitz, Your Majesty,” Fitz replied quickly, confused by Grant’s odd expression from a moment before. 

“Master?” Grant asked, eyes narrowed slightly. 

“I’m a scientist, Your Majesty,” Fitz answered. “The King has allowed me to stay here for the winter.” 

Realization seemed to dawn on Grant. “Oh! I remember hearing about you when you arrived,” he said, almost more to himself than to Fitz. “No one ever mentioned your name.” 

Fitz nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.” 

“And what were you doing outside on such a dreary day, Master Fitz?” Grant asked, his voice sweet and syrupy, a smoothness to it that made him seem trustworthy. He and Fitz had been friends after all, at the end at least, not that Grant would remember that. 

“Just clearing my head, Your Majesty,” Fitz replied. “The palace grounds are lovely all covered in snow.” 

Grant stared at him appraisingly for a moment before nodding. “Very true, Master Fitz. This is the longest I’ve ever spent here, and I’ve found that I like it very much.” 

“I’m sure the King is grateful to have Your Majesty around,” Fitz added and then moved to go. “I’ll let Your Majesty get on.” 

Grant smiled at him. “Good to meet you, Master Fitz.” 

“Likewise, Your Majesty,” Fitz replied with a bow and left his former friend. 

Fitz walked back to the library deep in thought. Grant’s reaction to seeing him had been… odd. The surprise at finding someone in a place where Grant had expected to be alone was one thing, but when Fitz had looked up at him, that had been beyond surprise; Grant had been _afraid_ to see him. Did he recognize him? Surely Grant would have said something if the curse by some miracle hadn’t worked on him. Or maybe Grant had seen Fitz’s body lying in the field in front of the fortress? That was a possibility, since Fitz really didn’t know what had happened there besides Mack’s little ten-second account, but that still didn’t explain the fear. 

Fitz shook his head. Just another scrap of information to add to the pile of things that didn’t quite make sense. 

Only a few days later, Fitz happened to run into the other member of the Ward family currently residing in the palace. He wasn’t sure how he had avoided running into Daisy in the month he’d been at the palace so far, but on this particular afternoon he happened to be passing by her alcove under the stairs just as she was leaving, presumably to go to Mack and Lady Mackenzie’s for Friday afternoon tea. 

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Fitz said, bowing, as their paths crossed. 

“Good afternoon,” Daisy replied, a wide smile on her face that Fitz knew well. “You must be Master Fitz.” 

“I am, Your Highness,” Fitz replied. “At your service.” 

“How are you liking the castle?” Daisy asked kindly. “You’ve been here nearly a month, haven’t you? I’m surprised we haven’t met before now.” 

“It will be a month in a few days, Your Highness,” he said, wishing he could speak with his friend less formally than this. “I’m certainly glad I came to stay here. The lab and the library are spectacular, and the people are all so wonderfully nice. Or most of them are anyway,” he amended, unable to keep the bitter edge from his words. 

Daisy’s eyes grew cloudy for a moment. “The King said you come from the North where the raids were last year.” 

Fitz nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I worked tending the wounded.” 

Daisy smiled at him, but she seemed almost confused. “Did you leave behind any family?” 

“Not any that would remember me, Your Highness” Fitz replied, speaking only the truth. 

Daisy offered him a small smile and gestured to the steps. “Tell me about them.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bore Your Highness,” Fitz said quickly. Of course he wanted nothing more than to talk to his friend, but lies could only go so far. 

“You wouldn’t bore me!” Daisy said almost laughing as she sat down a few steps up from the base of the stairs. “And please stop with all the ‘Your Highness’ nonsense. I put up with it from nobles and on formal occasions, but, as it’s just us, please call me Daisy. We’ll be friends! I’d imagine you’re barely older than I am anyway, Master Fitz.”

“I’m just Fitz then,” Fitz replied sitting down beside her, “if you insist, uh, Daisy.” 

Daisy grinned at him, and Fitz felt more at ease than he had since he had returned to the palace. 

“Now, your family,” she said, still smiling, “tell me about them.” 

Fitz sighed as he looked into the inviting eyes of his friend, and he decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. “My parents are – were,” he corrected, “they were very good to me. My mother was always there whenever I needed her; I’d been able to rely on her for my entire life. My father was gone a lot when I was young. I held it against him for a long time, but a few years ago I realized that everything he ever did, he did for me.” 

“My parents were like that a bit,” Daisy said softly. “I was left up to governesses and all that to look after me, but my parents loved me so much. They’re gone now too.” She stared down at her feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Fitz said, daring to place his hand on Daisy’s forearm comfortingly. 

She looked up at him, her eyes watery, but a small smile playing at her lips. “Thanks.” She wiped at her eyes quickly. “You know, there’s some really great people here at the palace that have kind of become a second family for me. I’m sure they’d all adopt you in a heartbeat.” 

Fitz made a mental note to thank Daisy for this if he was ever able to break the curse, but, as things were, it wouldn’t work. “That’s kind of you,” he said, his eyes downcast, “but I know you’re good friends with Miss Simmons, and she doesn’t like me. She hates me really, if I’m honest.” 

Daisy didn’t say anything for a moment, and Fitz knew with certainty that Jemma had complained about him to Daisy and maybe even to all of his old friends.

Daisy finally sighed, and Fitz looked up. 

“Jemma just has a weird feeling about you,” Daisy said slowly. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, of course, but that’s why she’s been so unfriendly. Jemma’s really one of the sweetest people I know, I promise.”

Fitz offered her a small smile. 

Daisy smiled back. “I’ll talk to her, and hopefully we can get it all figured out. But first things first, you’re coming to tea.” 

“No, I can’t. Miss Simmons-” 

“Forget about Jemma!” Daisy said exasperatedly, standing and reaching out her hand to help him up. “She can talk to Will in the corner if she has such a problem with you being there. Dame Isobel always asks after you, and I think Mack would like to see you too. You’ve made a good impression on everyone.” 

“Except Miss Simmons,” Fitz said, his tone harsh. 

“What did I just say?” Daisy laughed, rolling her eyes. “Come on. And you can meet my fiancé Lincoln! Only you can’t tell my brother or the King or really anyone besides everyone who comes to tea that he’s my fiancé. It’s a secret. You’ve got to promise not to say anything.” 

Fitz smiled in spite of himself. “I promise.” 

“Good!” Daisy beamed at him, practically jumping up and down with excitement. “It’ll be fun! You’ll see.” 

And for the first time since he’d come back to the palace, Fitz actually let himself believe that things could maybe be okay. 

And it was okay. Sort of. 

Lady Mackenzie and Mack were surprised to see Fitz with Daisy, but they welcomed him inside with wide smiles. 

“We’d been wondering when we were going to get you to come by, Master Fitz,” Lady Mackenzie said kindly. “Of course our dear Daisy managed it.” 

“She wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Fitz replied with a small smile. 

Daisy beamed at him. 

“Oh, Master Fitz!” Dame Isobel quickly took Fitz by the arm. “I’ve been worried we scared you away.” 

“No, Dame Isobel,” Fitz replied. “I’ve just been busy.” 

The woman blinked at him, and Fitz knew that even though in this world where Dame Isobel had only spoken with him once before, she could still read him like a book. 

“Fitz!” Daisy called excitedly, hurrying over to him, dragging a bemused but smiling Lincoln behind her. “This is Lincoln.” 

Fitz made a quick bow. “Nice to meet you, Lincoln. Daisy’s been telling me all about you.” 

Lincoln grimaced slightly, but his eyes were filled with nothing but love as he looked at Daisy. “Sorry about that, Master Fitz.” 

“Just Fitz,” Fitz corrected quickly. “’Master’ is far too formal a title for me.” 

Lincoln grinned. “Just Fitz then.” 

Instead of the awkward conversation with a “new” acquaintance that Fitz had been expecting, Daisy decided to regale the group with the story of her and Lincoln’s latest near-run-in with Grant (which had only been avoided by Lincoln hiding entirely under a table and half behind a tapestry as Daisy steered Grant away with some made-up story about the King needing him for something). 

Fitz laughed along with Mack and Dame Isobel, Lady Mackenzie trying her best to look disapproving but unable to hide her smile, and it felt almost like old times. But a knock on the door signaled the arrival of reality. 

“Jemma, dear, look who we have joining us!” Lady Mackenzie said pleasantly as she led her niece inside. Just behind her were Sir William and Lance, the latter of whom, instead of looking simply worried, now looked utterly lost without Bobbi at his side. 

“Oh,” Jemma said, her face falling at the sight of Fitz. “How… nice.” 

Fitz offered her a bow. “Miss Simmons.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes, not even attempting to keep secret her annoyance at the pair of them. 

“Jemma, Will, would you like some tea?” Lady Mackenzie said, trying to ease the tension. 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Jemma answered, throwing her aunt one of her usual bright smiles. 

Lady Mackenzie led Jemma and Will across the room, leaving Lance standing by himself staring into space. 

“You okay, Lance?” Mack asked his friend quietly. 

Lance blinked and looked around as though he’d only just realized he was in Mack and Lady Mackenzie’s quarters. “Oh,” he said, his voice almost toneless, “yeah, I’m fine. I just… Give me a minute.” He turned away from the group and sat down on the sofa. 

Fitz could feel Bobbi’s absence keenly in the empty seat next to her husband. 

“Bobbi still hasn’t woken up,” Daisy whispered to Fitz softly, her eyes sad. “It’s been a month now, and, nothing. She’s alive, but even Jemma hasn’t been able to do anything, and she knows more about medicine than anyone.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. What if this wasn’t about medicine? 

He held up a hand to Daisy and the rest of the group excusing him from the conversation as he went to sit in the armchair next to the sofa. 

“Sir Lance?” Fitz said hesitantly. 

“Just Lance is fine,” Lance said with a wave, offering Fitz the slightest glimmer of the jovial man Fitz knew beneath the despair. 

“Lance,” Fitz started again, “would you mind telling me about your wife’s condition? I… I want to help.” 

Lance looked up at him warily. “I wasn’t there when it happened. There’s not much I can tell you.” 

“What’s she like right now, then?” Fitz asked.

“She hasn’t woken up since they brought her out of the fortress,” Lance said, his voice hollow. “She’s still breathing, and she looks perfect, but she won’t wake up. Will said it was just a nasty bump to her head, but that healed in a few days, and it’s been a month.”

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “I have an idea. It could come to nothing, but I’d like to try.” 

Lance looked up at him, his eyes pleading. “I’ll do anything. _Anything_ ,” he repeated, his words heavy with emotion. “I just need her back.” A tear dripped down his cheek. 

Fitz didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen his friend like this. 

“I was always the one who got hurt,” Lance said after a moment, “I’d go into battle and break my leg falling off a horse after the battle was over. Once, I tripped over a tree root and was laid up for days. But Bob put up with all of it; she married me regardless.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And now it’s her, practically dead in the infirmary. Look at that irony!” He threw his head in his hands. “I can’t take it. I’d give up the whole world just to see her smile one more time.” 

“Can I see her?” Fitz asked after a moment. “Please.” 

Lance shrugged hopelessly. “Can’t hurt, can it?” 

They both stood up, and Fitz mouthed a quick “we’ll be back” at Daisy who smiled at him sympathetically and nodded. 

As he and Lance left the room, Fitz couldn’t help but notice Jemma’s sigh of relief.

After a quick stop in the library for Fitz to grab a book that had the information he was looking for, Lance led him to the infirmary. 

A group of nurses passed them as they entered, apparently heading for the main palace. 

“They’re going to see the queen,” Lance whispered to Fitz. “She’s been very sick, different than Bobbi though, maybe worse even. No one knows why.” 

Fitz nodded but said nothing, the gears turning in his mind. If it turned out that Maveth was responsible for his mother’s illness, that was all the more reason for Fitz to kill him. 

“She’s just in here, Fitz” Lance said, opening a door and pulling Fitz from his thoughts. On the walk from Lady Mackenzie’s, Fitz had asked that Lance drop the “Master” and just stick with “Fitz.” 

Bobbi lay in the furthest bed in the otherwise empty room. Fitz knew that particular bed had been occupied by Lance many times over the years, and the chair next to it was one that Fitz still considered to be Bobbi’s. 

Bobbi was pale, but there was some color in her cheeks, letting Fitz know that she was indeed still with them in the land of the living. Her hair lay smooth as though someone (most likely Lance) had recently brushed it. She looked so peaceful. 

Lance reached out and stroked Bobbi’s cheek as he sat down next to her. “Come back, love,” he whispered, “I miss you.” 

Fitz felt like he was intruding, so he took a seat a bit away from the bed, a chair he had sat in many times as he and Jemma had joked around with an injured and bedridden Lance, and pulled out the book he had brought with him. 

Through his research, Fitz had found no way to reverse strong curses like the one Maveth had placed on him, but less powerful curses could be stopped relatively easily. His book spelled out a fairly simple solution that could remedy sleeping curses, but Fitz wasn’t sure what kind of medicine Jemma had on hand. Really, he would have given anything to have Jemma helping him with this. He trusted her so much more with medicines and compounds than he trusted himself. 

And, as if on cue, Jemma and Sir William entered the room. 

Fitz instantly decided to ignore all the animosity Jemma felt toward him and just worry about Bobbi. 

“J-Miss Simmons, did you ever try a compound like this?” Fitz moved deliberately in front of Sir William so he could show Jemma the passage he was referring to. 

“What?” Jemma looked affronted by Fitz’s sudden impudence. 

“I think Lady Hunter might be cursed,” he explained, pointing deliberately to the passage he wanted Jemma to read. “There’s a solution that might counteract the curse and bring her back.” 

“But she isn’t cursed, Master Fitz,” Jemma said, matter-of-fact, though there was a hint of doubt in her words. “Will said he saw Bobbi get hit in the head by one of Maveth’s men, that’s all it was.” 

Fitz shook his head. “It’s more than that. It has to be.” 

Jemma stared at him, almost confused. 

“Please, can we try this?” Fitz said, his voice quieter now. “It can’t hurt.”

Jemma looked up at Sir William. The taller man was stony-faced, clearly upset by Fitz’s immediate disregard for his evidence. 

Jemma finally sighed, turning away from Sir William. “What do I need?”

Fitz forced himself not to smile at the small victory he had just won (or, more accurately he knew, Jemma’s sense of reason and thoroughness had just won against second-hand evidence) as he showed Jemma what he was talking about. 

“Could you make it?” Fitz asked after Jemma had nodded her way through the instructions. “I’ve never been as good at stuff like this.” 

Jemma gave him an odd look, but then she nodded again, hurrying away to a cabinet and pulling out vials and measuring glasses. 

Sir William followed her, whispering what Fitz could only assume were as string of comments asking why Jemma was suddenly trusting Fitz when she’d spent nearly a month trying to ignore him. 

“It’s a legitimate theory, Will!” Jemma replied, presumably louder than she had intended because she immediately dropped her voice, though Fitz could, of course, still hear her. “I know you think it’s pointless, but he’s still a scientist, even if I don’t trust him. We have to try.” 

Jemma saying she didn’t trust Fitz was like a dagger in his heart, but this was about Bobbi and not about him. That’s the only reason Jemma had agreed to help in the first place. 

Fitz knew it would take some time to make the compound, so he started pacing the length of the room, trying to think of anything else to help Bobbi if this didn’t work. 

“Okay, it should be finished,” Jemma said almost twenty minutes later. 

Fitz walked over to see. It was just a small glass filled with clear liquid that could have been water if Fitz hadn’t known better. 

Jemma handed it to him. “You do it. It was your idea.”

Fitz took the glass and nodded, offering Jemma a small smile, which she, as expected, didn’t return. 

He walked over to where Lance was sitting talking quietly to his sleeping wife, one of her hands clutched in both of his. 

“I can’t guarantee anything, Lance,” Fitz said quickly, “but no one’s tried this yet so it might do something. Can you move her head up a little so she doesn’t choke when I give her this?” 

Lance nodded and repositioned his wife so she was leaning against the headboard of the bed before moving back to give Fitz better access. 

“Come on, Bobbi,” Fitz muttered, his voice quiet enough that no one else could hear him. He took a deep breath as he brought the glass to Bobbi’s lips and tilted it into her mouth. 

After giving her enough for the solution to work, according to the instructions in the book, Fitz set the half-empty glass down on the table beside him and waited. 

A minute passed, and Fitz heard a tutting sound from Will, but before Fitz could respond, Bobbi started coughing. 

“Ugh, my head,” Bobbi groaned, her eyes finally opening. “What happened?” 

“BOBBI!” Lance practically launched himself on top of his wife. “Oh my God, Bob, you’re okay! You’re okay. I’ve been so worried. You’re okay!” 

Bobbi stared at her husband, confused, before laughing. “Yeah, I’m okay, Lance. It’s okay.” 

Lance just stared at his wife, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see that again.” He leaned in to kiss her quickly. “I never thought I’d get to _do_ that again.” 

Bobbi grinned at him for a moment, but then her expression faltered. “How long have I been out?” She looked around. “Why are we in the infirmary? What happened at the fortress? Where’s Jem-” Bobbi’s eyes lit up as she noticed Jemma at the foot of her bed. “So Grant found you then?” 

Lance sighed. “You’ve missed a lot, Bob. It’s been a month.” 

“A month?” Bobbi turned back to him, dumbfounded. 

Lance nodded. “Would have been longer if it wasn’t for Fitz here.” He gestured to Fitz. 

Fitz had been holding out the faintest hope that whatever had happened to Bobbi had stopped the curse from affecting her, but the look of confusion she gave him destroyed that idea quickly.

“I’m a scientist working at the palace for the winter,” Fitz explained. “And Jemma, uh Miss Simmons, deserves as much credit as I do.” 

“No I don’t,” Jemma interjected quickly, tears in her eyes at the sight of Bobbi back again. “This was all Master Fitz. I don’t know why I never insisted we look into curses. That was incredibly stupid of me.” 

“It’s not your fault; you just needed a fresh perspective,” Fitz said without thinking. That was the kind of thing he would have said to the Jemma who knew actually him. 

Jemma gave Fitz what he could have sworn was almost a smile before she turned back to Bobbi and Lance. “I have to go tell everyone. They’ll be so happy.” 

She turned to go to the door, but Fitz quickly crossed the room and grabbed her arm. 

“Really,” Fitz said, his words sincere, his love for Jemma bleeding through them even as he tried to keep it at bay, “I don’t think that would have worked without you, Miss Simmons.” 

“Jemma,” Jemma said almost automatically, though her eyes grew cloudy almost immediately after she spoke, as though she wasn’t sure she wanted actually to be on first name terms with Fitz. 

Fitz didn’t care. He’d take it. “Fitz,” he replied, grinning. 

Jemma stared at him for a moment before leaving the room. 

Fitz noted with more than a little satisfaction that she hadn’t stopped to talk to Sir William. 

Fitz moved back to Bobbi’s bedside to check that everything was okay. 

Lance beamed at him. “I can’t thank you enough, Fitz. You brought her back to me.” 

Fitz shook his head. “It was no trouble. I’m just glad you’re okay, Lady Hunter.” 

Bobbi laughed “After saving me from that curse or whatever it was, I think you can call me Bobbi.” 

Fitz smiled. “Of course, Bobbi. Well, I’ll leave you both then.” 

Lance clapped him on the shoulder before turning back to his wife. 

Fitz grabbed the library book and slipped out into the hallway. He let out a breath, allowing himself to laugh. He was just so grateful that had actually worked out. Bobbi and Lance were both going to be okay, even if they didn’t remember him. And that had been the closest thing to a positive interaction he had ever had with this Jemma. All he could feel was gratitude. 

“Fitz.” 

Fitz turned around and found himself face-to-face with Sir William, who looked pretty angry for someone who had just seen a woman suddenly wake up after being cursed to sleep for a month. 

“Yes?” Fitz asked as non-confrontationally as possible. As much as he really didn’t like Sir William, he also didn’t want to get into a fight when today was going so well. 

“You think you’re so clever,” Sir William said, his words almost a snarl as he narrowed his eyes at Fitz. 

Fitz realized with a start that he had never actually heard Sir William speak before. He’d seen him whisper to Jemma a hundred times, but, somehow, Fitz had never heard the other man’s actual voice. Something about it was oddly familiar, but Fitz couldn’t place it. 

Instead of replying, Fitz merely shrugged, hoping that would make the other man go away. 

“Leave Jemma alone,” Sir William said, his words harsh and his tone even worse, as though he were threatening Fitz’s life if he so much as stood near Jemma. “This is _her_ job and these are _her_ friends, not yours.” 

Fitz knew it would be smarter for him to ignore Sir William and say nothing, but this was too much. “Actually she seemed pretty happy that Bobbi’s okay, regardless of how it happened,” Fitz said nonchalantly, “so I think I’m fine.”

Sir William glared at him. “Mind your own business, and stay away from her.” He started walking away from Fitz toward the way out of the infirmary, but then he stopped and turned around, a twisted smile on his face. “She hates you anyway.” 

Fitz kept his face blank until he heard the door close behind Sir William, but as soon as the other man was gone, Fitz began to worry. Even if he hadn’t been in love with Jemma, Fitz still wouldn’t want Sir William around. Fitz could understand being protective, but Sir William’s words had been more threatening than anything, and they demonstrated that Jemma’s new suitor cared more about being right than he cared about Bobbi’s life, which was clearly a problem.

And then there was his voice, which Fitz was _sure_ he had heard somewhere before. 

Fitz shook his head, trying not to dwell on it. Jemma had very nearly smiled at him, ans that was certainly something else to think about. Progress was progress, and Fitz was willing to take whatever he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are so appreciated. Feel free to message me on tumblr (parksanddownton603). You all are absolutely lovely!!


	16. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be writing the paper I actually have due for class tomorrow, and I still have a 3x18 Mack POV fic that I need to finish in the next day or so, but I wanted to get this up before I did anything else. There's really not too much more to go now!
> 
> Thank you so much anyone who's kept reading this for all these months, and especially thank you to those lovely human beings who take the time to write such sweet comments. Seriously you guys are the best.
> 
> Enjoy!!

And from then on, Fitz was part of the group. He had been rewarded with hugs from Daisy, Lady Mackenzie, and Dame Isobel when he met them in the corridor as he left the infirmary, and Mack had clapped him on the shoulder, apparently at a loss for words. Bobbi was back, and one less thing was wrong with the world. 

Jemma was still wary of him as he started appearing at gatherings more and more often, but Fitz knew that Daisy and Lance were always pleading his case either subtly by asking Fitz about his work to make Jemma see that they would get along well or, more obviously, asking pointed questions and making contrived excuses to have Fitz and Jemma spend more time together. 

Jemma seemed almost confused about what to think about Fitz, which Fitz figured was the curse warring against Jemma’s (he presumed) natural inclination to like him. Sir William, on the other hand, was absolutely livid at Fitz’s continued presence in the group, but Fitz noted, with perhaps too much pleasure, that his friends already seemed to prefer him to Sir William. It wasn’t that they disliked the other man, he _had_ apparently saved Bobbi first at the fortress after all, but he just wasn’t very social with anyone besides Jemma, so they hadn’t really gotten to know him. He mostly just hovered beside Jemma as the rest of them talked together. 

Fitz’s real challenge was not being too casual too quickly. He was supposed to be a scientist his friend had only met a month ago, not the prince they had known for his entire life, so he was constantly fighting the urge to slip back into familiarity with his friends. 

News quickly spread around the palace of the visiting scientist who had saved Bobbi’s life, and Fitz was soon brought to King. 

“Master Fitz, we cannot thank you enough for what you did for Sir Lance and Lady Hunter,” the King said, his voice filled with gratitude. 

“This is what I do, Your Majesty,” Fitz replied. “I’m just glad I could help.” 

The King was silent for a moment, but Fitz could tell he had something more to say. 

“Would you come look at the Queen?” the King said hesitantly, as though he was at Fitz’s command, rather than the other way around. “She’s been unwell, and I don’t know if you can help, but if you could at least look at her-” 

“Of course!” Fitz interrupted his father before the man could keep rambling. “It is very possible that there is nothing I can do, but I will certainly do everything I can, Your Majesty.” 

The King looked relieved, as though he had almost expected Fitz to refuse. “Thank you.” 

He stood up and motioned for Fitz to follow him back through the door that led to their family quarters. 

Fitz could barely suppress his smile at being back in the rooms he had lived in for his entire life. They passed his father’s study and their family’s sitting room, and Fitz could see the door to his bedroom down a corridor before the King led them down a separate hallway to where Fitz’s parents’ rooms were. 

The King seemed far less regal than he usually did, even compared to the version of the King that was first and foremost Fitz’s father. He looked nearly as beaten as Lance had seemed before Fitz and Jemma had saved Bobbi, another man lost without his wife. Fitz grew even more worried about his mother than he already had been. 

“She’s just here,” the King said, opening a door and allowing Fitz to go first into his mother’s bedroom. 

The queen was lying in the middle of the bed, surrounded by pillows, but Fitz was immediately struck by how much worse she looked than Bobbi. Of course the fact that she wasn’t inexplicably asleep was good, but that was the extent of the reasons to celebrate. Her skin was ashy, and she seemed to be shivering even under a pile of blankets as she tossed and turned, not asleep but not quite awake either. 

“It can’t be the plague,” Fitz said almost to himself as he approached his mother. 

“We don’t believe so,” his father said quietly. “She’s been like this for a month, if it were the plague…” He trailed off. 

Fitz knew how the sentence was going to end; if his mother had had the plague, she would have been dead by now. 

Fitz lifted a hand to his mother’s forehead but jerked it back almost immediately. He had expected it to be hot and sweaty like anyone with a fever that he and Jemma had ever treated in the infirmary, but, instead, it was cold, almost like ice.

“Have you ever see that before, Master Fitz?” the King asked, the faintest note of hopefulness in his voice. 

Fitz shook his head. “No, never.” He paused. “But I’ve read about it. Only the most powerful sorcerers can affect their victims like this.” He turned away from his mother to look at his father. “There is no cure except to kill the sorcerer or have him retract his curse.” 

The King closed his eyes and sat down on the foot of the bed as though standing upright was too difficult. “Maveth. That cruel, evil man. If he’s even a man. He killed Eoin all those years ago, and now he’s cursed my Audrey. I… I don’t know what to do.”

“You find him,” Fitz said, momentarily forgetting about the courtesy one was supposed to show the King. “I mean, Your Majesty can certainly find him.” 

The King looked up at him with a small smile. “I don’t know if I believe you, but thank you all the same, Master Fitz.” 

“Just Fitz is fine, Your Majesty,” Fitz said quickly. “I’m not really one for titles.” 

His father nodded and stood. “I’ll walk you out then. Thank you for coming.” 

Fitz smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t of any help.” 

The King shook his head. “You _were_ helpful, Fitz. We’re lucky to have you here.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Fitz replied, smiling slightly to himself as he realized that was the first time his father had ever just called him Fitz. His parents had only ever called him Leo, and it was odd to hear the words coming from his father. 

Fitz was incredibly worried about his mother, but it just added to the reasons that he needed to find Maveth and destroy him. It wasn’t just about him anymore; his parents needed him too. Fitz was thankful that he was at least very much within the King’s good graces, so he could use that to retain his position at the palace if he needed to stay longer than just the winter, which was looking very likely since Fitz really wasn’t sure where to go from this point. 

When Bobbi finally left the infirmary, still taking it easy and sitting down as much as she could, as per Doctor Garner’s (and Jemma’s) orders, Fitz was given a proper introduction to his old friend who thanked him again for saving her. 

No one had yet to ask Fitz why he knew so much about curses, for which he was extremely grateful. He could probably get away with saying he was looking into Maveth now after his conversation with the King, but he had no legitimate reason to be researching him before that. Luckily, they all seemed too excited by Bobbi’s near-miraculous recovery to care too much about why Fitz had known the particular solution might work. 

And so January passed, and things weren’t terrible. Fitz would really have been, not pleased, but maybe relatively content to live in this reality for a while if it hadn’t been for Jemma, but, still, things were improving. 

Sir William, or Will as Fitz had taken to calling him out of habit, was, of course, still a thorn in Fitz’s side. Despite Will’s standoffishness with the rest of the group and his outright animosity towards Fitz, Jemma still stayed with Will. 

Fitz heard Jemma tell her aunt one afternoon that Will was so funny and sweet and kind with her, but that he was just so shy around everyone else. Fitz thought that was a pretty thin excuse since Will hadn’t seemed shy in the least when he had threatened Fitz outside the infirmary, and Will had known these people for over a month now, so if there was any situation in which someone would be able to overcome shyness, it would be this. 

But, regardless of the poor excuses, Will remained Jemma’s constant companion. He would whisper to her and make her laugh and throw faces at her across the lab. It was as though he had completely replaced Fitz in Jemma’s life, only with whispered, non-substantive flirting rather than Fitz and Jemma’s constant stream of loud scientific argument and discussion, with as much flirting as possible in addition, of course. 

But, even so, Jemma didn’t glare at Fitz anymore, and sometimes she actually spoke to him without encouragement, so that was definitely a step in the right direction. Things were a long way from perfect, but Fitz was surviving. 

Then, on a gloomy day in February, everything changed. 

Tea was at Dame Isobel’s that afternoon, and Fitz stood talking with Daisy and Lincoln as Lady Mackenzie helped Dame Isobel play hostess and Lance and Bobbi sat on the sofa laughing at something Mack, sitting across from them, had said. 

Jemma and Will were the last to arrive, as they often were, but Fitz could instantly tell that something was different. Jemma was positively beaming, her hand clutched fast in Will’s, and Will looked almost gleeful. 

“We’re engaged!” Jemma announced almost as soon as the door closed behind her. She held out her left hand to display a small diamond set on a gold band. “Will proposed in the lab just as we were coming up here.” She turned to look at Will, her eyes full of love as he wrapped his arm around her. 

“Oh, Jemma, that’s so amazing!” Daisy practically squealed, rushing over to see the ring for herself. 

The rest of the group quickly gathered around Jemma and Will offering their congratulations and asking questions about the wedding, but Fitz didn’t move. He was frozen in place, unable to so much as breathe, let alone offer the woman who was supposed to be his best friend in the world, the love of his life, his unofficial fiancée congratulations on an engagement to another man. Every second felt like an eternity as he watched the celebration. It was his worst nightmare come true, but he couldn’t look away. 

And then his eyes met Will’s. 

The other man grinned at Fitz, but it wasn’t the smile of a man blissfully in love reveling in his engagement. This smile was smug, a message directly to Fitz that he, Will, had won and Fitz was nothing. 

He raised his eyebrows at Fitz slightly as though to ask how Fitz was planning on responding, before he very deliberately looked down to Jemma and took her chin in his hand, angling her head up so he could press a firm kiss to her lips. 

That was too much for Fitz. Without a look back, he bolted from Dame Isobel’s quarters and took off down the corridor. Jemma was in love with Will. Jemma was going to marry Will. The words pounded through Fitz’s head as he replayed Will and Jemma kissing over and over. It was torture Fitz had never imagined, so much worse than his friends forgetting him, so much worse even than Jemma outright hating him. Jemma was more indifferent toward him now than antagonistic, but Fitz would gladly have returned to that antagonism if it meant that Jemma wasn’t engaged to Will. Will had threatened him. Will cared more about his own personal reputation than the health of their friends. Will hadn’t even bothered to get to know Daisy or Mack or any of them But, for Fitz, the worst bit wasn’t that it was Will who Jemma was engaged to, it was that it wasn’t Fitz.

Fitz found that his legs had carried him to the lab, as so often happened when he was deep in thought. The lab was safe, it was home, it was _theirs_. Or it had been before Maveth and the curse and Will. He raced down the stairs and crossed the lab to his old bench. Everything there was Will’s now, but Fitz ignored it, sliding back against the solid rock of the wall and settling on the floor, entirely hidden by the table if anyone came in, not that anyone would. 

Sobs wracked his body as he curled his arms around his knees. How had he been so stupid to think that things would ever be okay? 

What if Jemma actually would have preferred Will to him if really given the choice? The fact that the curse had taken effect when he kissed Jemma was evidence enough that she was his true love. But did that mean that he was Jemma’s? Fitz had assumed it was an all-or-nothing sort of thing, but Jemma had looked so happy showing off her engagement ring to Daisy. Would his Jemma have looked that happy if Fitz had been able to actually propose back before the curse? He tried to tell himself that of course she would have, but it didn’t even matter. Chances were that he was never going to get his Jemma back. And even if he did, what could he expect? Jemma was engaged to another man. If she and Will got married before Fitz broke the curse, even if Jemma remembered she loved him, Jemma would still be married, and Fitz would have lost her. 

Fitz knew that the realization that he now had a definite time limit to find and kill Maveth should have spurred him into action, but Fitz didn’t move. He had no idea where to find Maveth, and who knew if Jemma would even still want to be with him now that she had Will. Aside from threatening Fitz and not talking to their friends, Will seemed like a great guy, always making Jemma laugh, helping her in the lab, maybe not as well as Fitz would have but still, and of course he was taller and older and more handsome and all of those things that girls apparently liked in a man. Fitz had never cared about that stuff; he’d always just had Jemma; he never needed anything more than her.

Fitz heard footsteps echoing from the stairs. 

Of course Jemma and Will would come down here to celebrate their engagement. This was where Will had proposed after all. Fitz just tried to sit as silently as possible, hoping they would go away before they saw him. 

“Fitz?”

That wasn’t Jemma. It wasn’t even Will. 

“Fitz, I know you’re here. Where- Oh!”

Fitz looked up to see Dame Isobel smiling sadly at him. 

“How’d you know I’d be down here?” Fitz asked after a moment. 

Dame Isobel laughed and took a seat on Fitz’s, or now Will’s, stool. “Oh my dear Fitz, you’re a pretty easy one to figure out. Kind, genuine, and you wear your heart on your sleeve.” 

Fitz stared at the ground. 

“Did you have someone special back home?” Dame Isobel asked softly. 

“I do,” Fitz said quietly, his eyes still on the floor, “or I did,” he amended, his voice breaking. 

“Is that why you’re here and not there?” 

Fitz shrugged but then nodded. “Yes.” 

“Was it true love, what you had?” 

Fitz looked up at Dame Isobel, the closest thing he had ever had to a grandmother and someone he couldn’t image his life without. “It was. I can promise you that.” Fitz stopped, his eyes falling on Jemma’s gloves sitting on the table. “It took a while for things to work out, but when they did, it was perfect,” Fitz said, not sure why he was still talking, but needing to speak the words, needing to hear, out loud, that he had been in love, that he had, for however brief a time, been with Jemma, that his life had, for those short weeks, been so unbelievably happy. “But she’s gone now. I’ll never see her again… or she’ll never see me.” The magic was over. Fitz was alone. 

“Oh, Fitz,” Dame Isobel got off the stool she was sitting on and sat down carefully on the floor next to him so she could pull him into a hug. “My dear, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that true love always finds a way.”

“Not this time,” Fitz said bitterly as Dame Isobel released him. “It’s too much.” 

Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

“Did Daisy ever tell you about how she met Lincoln?” Dame Isobel asked finally. 

Fitz, of course, knew, but Daisy had never told him the story in this reality. He shook his head. 

Dame Isobel smiled to herself and began. “The King was visiting Grant and Daisy’s ailing father along with a portion of his cavalry, including Mack and Lincoln, and one day as Daisy was hiding from a governess, she ran straight into Lincoln who instantly dropped Mack’s shield that he had been polishing right in the dirt. Daisy apologized over and over, but Lincoln insisted that it was alright; he was so intrigued by this beautiful brown-haired maiden who had come running into his life. So he asked her for her name and Daisy panicked. She knew that this sweet squire who happily went back to polishing his knight’s shield would never treat her normally if he knew she was the princess, so she looked up in the air for answers and then told him her name was Skye and that she was the daughter of a knight. And over those few weeks Lincoln spent at the palace, they fell in love, but they thought they would never see each other again. And then Grant and Daisy came to visit a year and a half ago, and, at the banquet, Daisy and Lincoln saw each other across the crowded hall, the truth came out, and they’ve been together ever since.”

Fitz had to smile, remembering that night at the banquet, their entire group of friends standing there, confused, as Lincoln and Daisy embraced, staring at each other with face-splitting grins. Daisy had told him later that night, the first night she ever spent at the palace, that she and Lincoln were meant to be, and more than nine months later, on Daisy’s last night at the palace, Fitz realized that there was someone he felt like that about too. Someone who had just gotten engaged to another man. Fitz’s smile fell instantly.

“Lincoln and Daisy thought they would never see each other again,” Dame Isobel continued, her voice still soft, “but true love had other plans. There’s no doubting it. It just is.” 

“And Jemma and Will, is that true love?” Fitz asked, the words ripping out of him thoughtlessly, bitterly, pain in every syllable. He turned his eyes to the ground. 

Dame Isobel was silent for a moment. “I don’t know about Jemma and Will,” she said finally. 

Fitz looked up. He’d never heard Dame Isobel, or any of their friends, say anything negative about Will, and, what’s more, he’d never heard Dame Isobel say anything negative about a couple who was together. Bobbi and Lance were always perfect and so were Mack and Lady Mackenzie and even he and Jemma for however brief a time, but this was… this was something different. 

“I thought with true love you just… knew,” Fitz said, confused. 

Dame Isobel glanced over at him, a small smile on her face. “Well there’s your answer.” 

And then she stood up and left Fitz sitting alone in the lab. He was grateful that Dame Isobel, defender of true love, didn’t think Jemma was making the right decision in marrying Will, but he didn’t know what he could ever do with that information. He couldn’t just go up to Jemma and tell her that Will wasn’t her true love, but he, Fitz, was. He had already worked so hard to get Jemma to be merely indifferent toward him, let alone like him. He was glad that he still had his friends, but this was one thing he really couldn’t see a way out of. 

Fitz distanced himself a bit from Jemma and Will over the next few days, the pain of seeing them apparently happily engaged too much for Fitz to deal with, but, luckily, the king had plans which unintentionally saved Fitz from his current situation: the cavalry was to move out by the end of the week. 

It seemed the incidents up north were escalating, and apparently there were problems at the borders in Grant’s kingdom, so all of the cavalrymen from both armies who had been camped at the castle and in the surrounding towns for the winter were to be called up and moved out as quickly as possible. 

This meant heartfelt goodbyes to Mack, Lance, and Lincoln (Daisy, particularly distraught, since she had already spent so much time away from her fiancé the previous year), and, thankfully, on Fitz’s part, Will. 

The whole group saw the men off, Fitz distracting himself so he didn’t have to witness the goodbyes between Jemma and Will, but the king called Fitz over before they all left. 

“Fitz, I know you asked to stay here for the winter,” he began, and Fitz’s heart sank instantly. The winter was over. He was going to be asked to leave. 

The King continued, “but I would be so grateful if you remained here longer. If we’re fighting Maveth, it will be good to have someone who knows so much about curses on hand in case something like what happened to Bobbi happens again.” 

Fitz could barely conceal his relief. “I would be honored, Your Majesty.” 

The King nodded and called to his men, leaving Fitz standing alone. 

Suddenly someone grabbed him and shoved him behind a pillar. It was Will. Of course.

“Listen Fitz,” the man hissed, the pair of them out of the line of sight of the women inside or any of the men mounting their horses in the yard, “you stay away from Jemma. She’s mine, and she doesn’t want you around. If you try anything, I can make you pay for it.”

Fitz was a bit afraid that the larger and taller man would “make him pay” right now, but Fitz swallowed his fear, needing to defend the woman he loved. “Jemma Simmons doesn’t belong to anyone. And the King is waiting.” Fitz jerked his head toward the men assembling in the yard. 

Will glared at Fitz for a moment before giving him one last shove against the pillar and storming away. A moment later Will was mounting his horse and waving sweetly at Jemma as though he was the most innocent man in the world. 

Fitz took a deep breath. Threats aside, at least he didn’t have to be around Will anymore. Maybe things would go better with Jemma without Will casting a shadow over everything. 

Fitz struggled slightly with so much of the group gone. He and Jemma were now nearly always in the same circle of conversation, which was often unbearable since all he wanted in the world was to talk to her but if he came on too strong he would lose the progress that he had made. 

Jemma, for her part, took Will’s departure well. Fitz knew Jemma better than anyone else in the world, and he could tell that despite her excitement about being engaged, she seemed almost relieved to see Will go. Fitz knew he could be reading too much into it, but, regardless, she certainly wasn’t playing the part of the broken-hearted woman whose fiancé has gone to war. 

That, of course, was Daisy, her usual excitement dimmed significantly by Lincoln’s departure. With her fiancé gone, she took to spending more time with Jemma, even coming down to the lab on occasion, which Fitz certainly didn’t mind since Daisy was much more likely to engage him in conversation than Jemma was. 

“I just miss him so much,” Daisy sighed one afternoon from where she sat across from Jemma. 

In the week or so since the men had left, Fitz had gravitated back to his old spot where Will had been working, and it had almost completely become his own space again. 

Jemma had clearly noticed, but she hadn’t commented, much to Fitz’s relief. 

“Oh yes,” Jemma replied to Daisy absently, “it’s odd without them all here.” 

“Don’t you miss Will so terribly?” Daisy asked her friend with a drama Fitz knew was genuine. No one could ever doubt Daisy’s love for Lincoln. 

“Yes, of course,” Jemma replied, but her words weren’t like Daisy’s, filled with love and longing. They were just words, little emotion behind them. Of course Jemma herself wasn’t like Daisy, but Fitz could recall Jemma sitting in front of a fireplace at an inn telling him that she was completely in love with him, with nothing but love and happiness in every syllable. That Jemma of nearly four months ago was, by all appearances, far more in love than the Jemma that sat near him in the lab. 

That thought alone made Fitz smile to himself as he worked silently at his bench. 

“You do love him don’t you,” Daisy asked slowly, unsure. “I mean it’s true love like Lincoln and I, right?” 

Jemma looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I necessarily believe in true love, but, I suppose it is…” She shrugged. 

Fitz raised his eyebrows slightly, his eyes still on the table in front of him. This was a far cry from the Jemma who had confessed her love for him in this very lab. 

Daisy seemed unconvinced, but instead of continuing to question Jemma, she turned to Fitz. 

“What do you think about true love, Fitz?” she asked curiously. 

Jemma seemed almost annoyed that Daisy had decided to bring Fitz into this, but that annoyance was nothing compared to the hatred of December, so Fitz paid it no mind as he turned to Daisy. 

“I think it’s the most magical and beautiful thing in this entire world,” Fitz replied without hesitation. “I had true love once, and though it ended in tragedy, not a day goes by that I don’t think back on it with gratitude and happiness.” He paused for a moment, smiling to himself. “I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Really, I would give up the whole world to have that again.” 

“That’s lovely, Fitz,” Daisy said in reply, tears welling up in her eyes, but Fitz’s attention was focused on Jemma. 

Their eyes met and for just the briefest moment, those eyes were the same eyes Fitz had looked into as Jemma ran into his arms months ago on the field in front of the fortress, eyes so filled with adoration and excitement and utter joy. For that instant, they were the eyes of a woman who loved him beyond anything else. 

In a flash it was gone, and Jemma turned away, her face returning to the mask of confusion that it so often was now when she was around Fitz. 

But Fitz was left with something that he hadn’t really, genuinely felt since he had arrived at the palace and found himself entirely forgotten by his friends: hope. If Jemma could remember him, even for just that brief moment, then maybe, just maybe, he could get her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are the greatest ever. Thanks so much for reading <3


	17. What Happened at the Fortress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really should have been up ages ago, but life's been crazy the past couple weeks. Just two chapters to go and hopefully they won't be too painful to write after whatever happens in the finale Tuesday.
> 
> Enjoy!!

“Jemma, can you help me with this?” Fitz asked absently in the lab one afternoon a few days later. He was holding a splint in place as he let it set, but he needed to attach another piece and he’d run out of hands. 

“Got it,” Jemma replied, stepping into Fitz’s space and adding the last piece without even asking for instruction. 

“Thanks,” Fitz said gratefully, setting the now completed splint down on the lab table. A messenger from the King had arrived the day before with news that the cavalry had gotten into a skirmish with a group of Maveth’s men and that several of the cavalrymen had been injured and the supplies for the battlefield hospital had been lost in the struggle, meaning that Fitz and Jemma’s services were needed for procuring bandages and other medical paraphernalia. 

Jemma gave Fitz an odd look before she turned to the ground, her face a mask of confusion. 

Fitz suddenly realized that Jemma had just helped him as easily as she would have months ago, back when they were partners, best friends, entirely in love. Fitz allowed himself the smallest smile before he returned to his work, letting Jemma figure out her reaction herself. 

A moment later, she was back to work too, but this was just the beginning. As they settled in to their routine, the boundary that had existed between them since Fitz arrived began to blur. For moments here and there Fitz almost forgot he wasn’t working with a Jemma that had been his partner for their entire lives, and as Jemma quickly jumped in to help him whenever he needed her, it seemed that Jemma was experiencing something similar. 

Her expression kept shifting from satisfaction at the work they were doing to confusion and even something like fear at how naturally she worked with Fitz. 

Fitz hated seeing her uncomfortable like this, but in those little moment of satisfaction, the Jemma that stood next to him was his Jemma and not the one Maveth had stolen, and Fitz couldn’t let himself give that up. 

And anyone could see that he and Jemma worked better together. They had a large pile of medical supplies ready to be taken to the cavalry in just a few days, much to the appreciation of the men who had come for them and to the astonishment of the staff of the infirmary who had assumed that the whole operation would take much longer. 

“We’re very lucky you came to join us, Master Fitz,” Doctor Garner said as they helped load supplies into the cart the men were taking back with them. “You and Miss Simmons work so well together.” 

Fitz had flashed a smile at Jemma that she had almost returned. Almost. 

Armed with the new hope that he could get Jemma back, Fitz adopted the strategy of trying to spend as much time with her as possible in the hopes that one-on-one exposure would be the best way to get his former best friend to remember him. Without Will around, there was less negativity directed at Fitz, and Jemma actually had to interact with him rather than just whispering off in the corner with her fiancé. 

And so when Fitz decided that he wanted to look further into his mother’s illness, he turned to Jemma. 

“How much do you know about the Queen’s sickness?” Fitz asked hesitantly one morning. 

Jemma’s neutral expression turned sad almost instantly. “Not much. We’ve tried everything.” 

Fitz nodded. “She’s cursed like Bobbi was, but worse. I’ve never seen any accounts of curses like this where things turned out okay, but I haven’t read everything.” He looked up at Jemma. “Would you come look with me? We’ll get through it twice as fast together.” He knew this was a long shot, but he had to hope. 

Jemma stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yes, of course. Anything to help the Queen.” 

Fitz couldn’t stop a wide smile from spreading across his face as he led the way down the corridor to the library. 

The morning turned to afternoon, and Fitz and Jemma read through book after book on curses and sorcerers, and Fitz wondered if maybe the subject matter would jog Jemma’s memory, but he had no such luck. 

Which isn’t to say that the afternoon was a waste. On the contrary – he and Jemma started making a list of ways to treat curses in case anything happened to the soldiers out fighting Maveth. 

“Basil if they can’t speak,” Jemma said out loud as she wrote it down on the list. 

“And cinnamon if they can’t hear,” Fitz added, taking the quill Jemma handed him and writing it down.

“There’s some first-hand accounts over here,” Jemma said, picking up a stack of parchment. “I’ll go through those.” 

Fitz had insisted that she take the armchair ( _their_ armchair, he thought to himself), but as Jemma read through the letters and pamphlets from the stack, she kept finding interesting accounts of curses that she would say out loud, as though she needed to share them with someone, and Fitz would end up practically sitting in the chair with her as she showed him what she had found. Fitz knew that Jemma would likely have made these observations to anyone, but he could tell that the fact that Fitz entirely understood everything she was saying and knew exactly what was important about the pieces of information she shared with him was very much appreciated by his friend. Until she realized that she was talking to Fitz at which point things would get moderately uncomfortable and Fitz would move away. But then she would find something else, and it would happen all over again. 

“Fitz! Look at this!” 

That was the first time Jemma had actually used his name and not just started speaking excitedly to the air. 

Fitz tried to push his excitement at that fact out of the way as he hurried over to see what Jemma had found. 

“This man’s daughter was cursed like the Queen was,” Jemma skimmed through the account, “but he says here that even though nothing could undo the curse, if the moonlight came in through her window and landed on her, she was more peaceful and could even talk sometimes if she was awake.” 

“Why is it always moonlight?” Fitz muttered under his breath, remembering a dark night in the forest sitting up in a tree with Jemma. 

“What was that?” Jemma asked, curiously. 

Fitz shook his head quickly. “Nothing. But we should go see if the King would consider moving the Queen to one of the bedrooms with more windows that overlook the fields rather than the forest so no trees block the light.” 

Jemma narrowed her eyes slightly. “How do you know what the bedrooms overlook?”

Fitz paled. “Um, I’m, er, just assuming. Based on what I’ve seen wandering around the palace.” 

Jemma nodded, but she still looked unsure, a look which only intensified as she realized that Fitz was actually sharing the chair with her, both of them having been so distracted by the discovery that they hadn’t noticed their seating arrangement. 

Fitz sprang away from her instantly. “Should we go?”

“Of course,” Jemma replied, almost flustered, as she stood up, and they left the library together, Fitz almost taking Jemma’s hand for a moment before he stopped himself. 

Regardless of the progress he had made, they weren’t there yet. Not even close. 

But their research had necessitated the gathering of herbs and flowers that grew down by the river and by the wood near the observatory, so a few afternoons later, the now-March sun shining down on them, they found themselves outside with baskets wandering around the grounds and identifying plants as though they were 8 years old again. Fitz just wished Jemma could remember.

“The river back home looks a lot like this,” Fitz said casually. “I fell in once when our tutor was having us look at tadpoles. My… friend… she laughed for weeks over it.” Fitz glanced over at said friend to see what she would say.

Unexpectedly, Jemma smiled slightly at Fitz’s story. “My tutor took us down here to look at tadpoles too. I don’t think I ever fell in though.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t fall in,” Fitz said unable to help himself. “You have such ‘impeccable balance.’” 

A 9-year-old Jemma had used that phrase to describe herself just after the Fitz-falling-in-the-river incident. 

Jemma looked at him oddly. “How did you know about that?” 

“Lance mentioned it,” Fitz lied smoothly. Lance, of course, was the perfect scapegoat since he wasn’t around the palace currently but he knew all about Fitz and Jemma’s childhood antics, having participated in some himself. 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Lance needs to stop telling stories about me.” 

Fitz happened to see the observatory out of the corner of his eye, and he suddenly had an idea. “He’s not the only one I’ve heard about you from.” 

“Is Mack in on this too? And Daisy?” Jemma asked, exasperated. 

Fitz shook his head, trying to hold back his grin. “Actually, this was before I’d even come to the castle.” 

Jemma stared at him, confused.

“I was staying at an inn the night before I arrived,” Fitz explained, a smile spreading across his face as he spoke, “and I was sitting by the fire to warm up, and I got to talking with the man next to me. He said he was a teacher working for some prominent noble families in the area, but he mentioned that he had worked as a tutor at the palace some years ago, and that he particularly had taught a young girl who was, I believe he said ‘horribly rude and not at all grateful for the opportunity given to her.’”

“Master Sitwell!” Jemma said angrily, dropping her basket to the ground. “How dare he say that! He was a terrible teacher, Fitz. I wasn’t-” 

Fitz held up his hand to stop her, already laughing. “Of course I didn’t believe him, Jemma. The man was clearly delusional. And he decided to teach me a thing or two about astronomy, which was the most inaccurate lesson I’ve ever received in any subject. What I don’t understand is how he was ever allowed to teach at the palace in the first place.” 

Jemma laughed. “It was so terrible, you’re so lucky that’s all the time you ever had to spend with him. I wasn’t even eleven, and he kept trying to ask me why I wasn’t ‘accomplished.’” Jemma’s words were laced with disdain. “Of course by that point I probably already knew as much about the world as Sitwell did, but he was just dreadful.” 

“Please tell me you said something to get him to shut up,” Fitz said, knowing that Jemma loved talking about this particular moment in her childhood. 

Jemma smiled smugly. “One evening I told him that I thought he was meant to teach astronomy and not gender roles.” 

Fitz laughed genuinely and was beyond thrilled when Jemma joined in.

“That’s fantastic,” Fitz said through his laughter. 

“It was a proud moment for me,” Jemma said, her smile almost shy as he looked at Fitz. 

“It was brilliant,” Fitz affirmed with a nod. 

The pair stared at each other for a moment, but then Jemma’s eyes grew distant again, and she turned away and picked up her basket. 

Fitz kept smiling the entire afternoon. 

“So what have you two been working on?” Dame Isobel asked one evening the following week. 

It was later than usual for them to be together, but everyone was there, except the men off with the cavalry, naturally. Fitz and Jemma were talking with Dame Isobel and Daisy as Lady Mackenzie and Bobbi sat together on the sofa on the other side of the room. It had been nearly two months since Bobbi had been recovered, but she was still tiring more easily than normal, which was worrying Fitz and which he knew would have sent Lance into some sort of spiral if he had been there to see it. 

“We’ve been trying to prepare defenses against curses,” Jemma began. 

“In case Maveth does anything to any of the soldiers,” Fitz cut in. 

“A lot of the cures are quite simple-” 

“Just a flower or an herb-” 

“And a lot of them grow around the palace-” 

“So we’ve been replenishing stores-” 

“And making lists for the future-” 

“I think we’re fairly well prepared at present,” Fitz finished. 

Dame Isobel and Daisy stared at them, their eyebrows raised, matching grins on their faces. 

“What?” Jemma asked, confused. 

Fitz suddenly realized – he and Jemma had just finished each other’s sentences like they’d been doing since they were kids. Neither of them had even noticed, it had been so natural. 

“Nothing, dear,” Dame Isobel replied, throwing a significant look at Fitz that he pretended to ignore. 

Daisy quickly distracted Jemma with a question about flowers, and Jemma moved past Dame Isobel and Daisy’s odd expressions.

“Could I borrow you for a moment, Isobel?” Lady Mackenzie asked, and as Dame Isobel followed Lady Mackenzie to the kitchen, Fitz slipped away from Daisy and Jemma to go sit with Bobbi.

“How are you feeling, Bobbi?” Fitz asked as he sat down across from her.

Bobbi shrugged. “A little tired, but otherwise I’m well.” 

Fitz smiled. “Good. I’m not sure why you haven’t completely recovered, but hopefully we’ll figure that out soon.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Fitz,” Bobbi brushed away Fitz’s concerns. “Maggie was just telling me that Mack says the men are on their way home, so I'll get to see Lance. And I’ve had worse. Two months ago I was practically dead and nearly a month before that I was attacked at that fortress.” 

Fitz laughed slightly, but then he realized something. With everything going on with Bobbi’s recovery, the Queen’s illness, and all of he and Jemma’s research on curses, Fitz had stopped trying to figure out everything that had happened at the fortress the day everyone had forgotten him. He had never even asked Bobbi about what had happened to her. 

“Actually, Bobbi, do you remember what happened at the fortress?” Fitz asked, trying to keep his words casual. 

Bobbi was silent for a moment, clearly thinking hard. “Not entirely,” she said finally, “but some of it.” 

“What do you remember?” 

“Grant and I came in together through a back door,” she said slowly, “I went first and Grant was watching out behind me. But the next thing I knew, everything went black.” 

“So you never actually saw Will?” Fitz said, his eyes narrowed. 

Bobbi shook her head. “No. The first time I’d even heard of Will was in the infirmary after I woke up. Grant never mentioned him. Apparently he was undercover inside helping Jemma, and Grant was protecting him by not saying anything.” 

Undercover inside… Something about Bobbi’s words struck a chord in Fitz’s mind. Almost instantly he was transported back to that day. He was standing beside Bobbi and Grant listening at the crack in the fortress door. 

_“She’s a very pretty thing,” said an older man._

_“You should be nicer to her, Malick, she’s smart as well as pretty.” A younger voice, a familiar voice._

_“Didn’t seem so smart when I snatched her last night,” said Malick._

_“She hasn’t begged or wept or any of those typical maiden things, though. She’s been very defiant.” The younger voice again._

_“Feisty.”_

_“Don’t get any ideas, Malick. The Master said that the girl’s engaged, or as good as, and he’s really after her fiancé. Once the fiancé’s out of the way, she’ll be free to find someone else.”_

_“And you think that’ll be you, Will? Got yourself a crush?”_

_“She likes me already, which is far more than can be said of any of you. And I have a plan.”_  

Will. Fitz _had_ heard his voice before. Inside the fortress, plotting to steal Jemma from Fitz with Maveth’s consent. 

But certainly Grant would have told he and Bobbi that Will was one of his men. Fitz had been so upset by the comments they had overheard, and knowing that one of them was on their side would have given Fitz peace of mind. Even if he wanted to protect Will, Grant still should have said something. And besides, waiting for Will to sneak Jemma out that night was a much better plan than Grant and Bobbi going in and trying to find her themselves in broad daylight when Maveth’s men were just in the next room. 

Unless… 

“Fitz? Are you okay?” Bobbi’s voice broke through Fitz’s thoughts. 

Fitz shook his head quickly. “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking… excuse me.” He stood up and walked into the next room, which was mercifully empty. He collapsed into a chair, his thoughts on one person: Grant Ward.

If Grant had deliberately avoiding mentioning Will, then Fitz was left with one conclusion: Grant had to be working for Maveth. It was the only explanation. Fitz recalled he and Grant’s meeting two months before when Grant had seemed afraid of just the sight of Fitz. Perhaps Maveth had done something so the men working for him still remembered Fitz, and Grant was worried that Fitz returning to the castle would do something to hurt Maveth…

And if Grant was working for Maveth, Will was too. Of course Will knowing who Fitz was and having been promised Jemma by Maveth made all of his threats against Fitz and his reluctance to help Bobbi, the only person who could have possibly incriminated him, make perfect sense. 

Fitz quickly began to piece together what had happened at the fortress. Grant must have knocked out Bobbi; he might have even been the one who cursed her. Grant had insisted that Fitz stay away from the fortress while they went to get Jemma. Of course Grant would know that this was the exact situation where Fitz would forget everything and kiss Jemma just because he was so grateful that she was alive. Grant had played him. 

For months Fitz had thought of Grant as someone he couldn’t necessarily trust; even Daisy had had little good to say about her brother. But then Grant had been nice about Jemma, and he’d sat with them at the campfire… to distract them all from Jemma’s absence so that Maveth’s henchman Malick could take her. Of course! And then Fitz had tried to follow her, but Grant had come too, and he made Fitz stop to sleep to slow him down. Bobbi had agreed with Grant’s actions, but that had been out of concern for Fitz’s health; Grant hat no reason to care. Grant must have been working for Maveth the whole time. Fitz suddenly remembered that Grant had even disappeared that last day before Jemma had been kidnapped. He could have been off meeting with Maveth or one of Maveth’s men. 

The pieces gradually fit themselves into place, and Fitz was left with just one more question: why. What did Grant have to gain from Fitz’s downfall and the rise of an evil sorcerer? Grant had a kingdom too. An evil sorcerer could terrorize Grant’s land just as easily as he could terrorize any other kingdom. 

“Fitz, is everything okay?” 

It was Daisy. 

“Bobbi said you got all weird in the middle of your conversation and you just… left…” 

Fitz paid no attention to what his friend was saying. “Daisy. What kind of problems do you have in your kingdom right now? Is there anything that your brother would need help with?” 

Daisy stared at him, clearly not expecting Fitz’s question, but Fitz didn’t move.

“Uh, I don’t think so?” Daisy said finally as she realized that Fitz was completely serious. “I mean, there’s been that stalemate up north of us for a few years now, but that should blow over…” 

Of course: the war! Grant had even asked Fitz if he and the King would consider helping him, and Fitz had said they were committed to peace. So it seemed that Grant, in the absence of human friends, had turned to Maveth for help. If Fitz was out of the picture, then once the King was dead, the kingdom would collapse without an heir. Grant could conquer at least two additional kingdoms, and all it took was handing over Fitz. 

Fitz couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. Grant was working for Maveth. Will was working for Maveth… And if Bobbi was right, Grant and Will were coming back to the palace soon... which meant...

Jemma.

“Um, Fitz?”

“Sorry!” Fitz found Daisy staring at him, partly concerned and partly confused. “I just realized something…” 

Without another word, he left his friend and returned to the sitting room, looking all around for Jemma, but not seeing her anywhere. 

“She went down to the lab to do something, I’m not sure what,” Dame Isobel said before Fitz could even ask after Jemma. 

Fitz nodded gratefully and practically ran out the door. 

He raced through the corridors and down to the basement where he practically ran into Jemma by the entrance to the lab. 

“Fitz?” Jemma said, taking a step back in surprise. “I just had to make a note of something before I forgot. I was about to come back up. Is everything okay?’ 

Even with what Fitz had just realized, he couldn’t help but register how normal this felt – Jemma telling him what she was doing, making sure everything was okay – but that wasn’t why he was here. 

“Jemma, Will’s not who he says he is,” Fitz burst out, still catching his breath. 

“Excuse me?” Jemma folded her arms, closing herself off from Fitz at just the mention of her fiancé. 

“Just listen to me, Jemma, please,” Fitz said, taking a deep breath. “Will’s working for Maveth. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. This was all part of the plan when Maveth kidnapped you.” 

Jemma opened her mouth, but Fitz stopped her. 

“Mack told me about that the day I got here,” he brushed away her unasked question, “but you have to listen to me. Will’s dangerous, you’re not safe, and the King could be killed at any moment.” 

“What? Will’s part of King Grant’s cavalry, Fitz,” Jemma said slowly.

Fitz shook his head, his eyes not leaving Jemma. “No, he’s not. Grant never told anyone about Will; there were no spies… except Grant. He’s working for Maveth too. He knocked out Bobbi, and the plan was to make sure Bobbi didn’t wake up in case she remembered anything suspicious, but we messed that up for them. Will threatened me after that day in the infirmary. He didn’t want Bobbi to get better; it could have ruined everything.” Fitz stared at his friend, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, his eyes pleading as much as his words. “Please believe me, Jemma. They’re working for Maveth. You’re not safe. Please.” He reached out for her hand.

Jemma yanked it away from him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God… I remember you.”

Fitz’s heart leapt to his throat. “Jemma…”

“Your body was lying in the field that day by the fortress,” she said, her voice terrified. “You were lying there beside me, and I don’t know where you came from. It was you. _You’re_ working for Maveth.” 

Fitz exhaled. Of course it was too good to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are absolutely lovely <3


	18. Maveth's Downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is almost done, but I've had so much fun writing this for the last 6 months. Thank you so much everyone who's been reading this and especially those of you who've been writing such lovely comments. You guys are the best ever <3
> 
> Enjoy!

“I’m not working for Maveth,” Fitz said as calmly as he could manage. 

Jemma backed further away from him, her eyes darting around, looking for an escape. 

“Jemma, please, let me explain,” Fitz tried. “That _was_ me in the field, but that’s because Maveth cursed me, not because I’m working for him.” 

Jemma shook her head slowly. “Grant and Will told me you were one of Maveth’s men. Grant fought some of the others, and Will ran out carrying Bobbi, and when I asked who you were they said you were working for Maveth and we had to leave right away.” 

“Because _they’re_ working for him, Jemma,” Fitz explained, finally understanding why his parents and the cavalry had turned home so quickly and left him lying alone in the field. “You know you never trusted Grant.” 

Jemma narrowed her eyes. “Who said that?” 

“Bobbi told me,” Fitz lied quickly before pressing on, “but there’s a reason you didn’t trust him; he’s _evil_ Jemma. He’s working for Maveth. And Will is too.” 

Jemma stopped searching for a way to get out of the basement and stared at Fitz, her eyes flashing, angry and defensive. “Will’s my _fiancé_.” 

Jemma’s support of Will cut Fitz like a dagger, but he kept trying. “But do you trust him, Jemma, I mean _really_ trust him?” 

“Of course I do,” Jemma said reflexively, but almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth she stopped and turned away, apparently not as confident in her assertion as she had thought she was. 

Fitz took a cautious half step toward her. “Jemma, please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice quieter now. “I know you hate me, but I just want you safe.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Jemma said instantly, looking back up at him, but then her eyes grew cloudy. “Or… I don’t know…”

It was the curse. It was always the curse. It had taken his Jemma away from him. Even if he could warn her away from Will, she still wasn’t the woman who loved him; she was barely a woman who didn’t hate him. 

“I know, Jemma,” Fitz said softly, tears welling up in his eyes. “You feel like you should hate me, and this is just more evidence that you should, but please, if you care even the tiniest amount for me, if you even just appreciate the work we’ve done together these past two months; just be careful, Jemma. Be safe. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He left three more words unspoken. He hadn’t said them in so long, but he would get nothing from saying them now. 

So Fitz turned and left the woman he loved more than anything in the world. He couldn’t stay here if Jemma thought he was trying to poison her against Will, but if the men were coming back, Will and Grant would be with them and the entire palace would be in danger. The King could be killed at any moment, and Fitz had no idea how to help him. The only way to kill Maveth was to trap him back inside the monolith, but Fitz still had no idea where it could be. All he could do was try to find it. 

Fitz hurried up the stairs and through the corridors and outside through the front entry. The early spring air was perfectly still, cool but not unpleasant, and the sky was dark, though the moonlight was bright enough that it could have been early evening. 

No longer worrying about drawing too much suspicion, Fitz ran toward the stables and sheds that stood past the front of the palace. Fitz knew from childhood exploration that there were hidden closets and rooms behind the buildings that could easily house the monolith. He started tearing open doors, finding only empty spaces and piles of surplus supplies, but then a yell stopped him. 

Suddenly the air was thick with the approaching sounds of hoof beats, swords clashing, the yells of men: a battle. The cavalry. 

Fitz crept out from behind the stables and found himself faced with a group of the cavalry on horseback retreating rapidly toward the palace with cloaked and masked men in pursuit. 

“DON’T LET HIM INTO THE COURTYARD!” Fitz heard his father yell to his men. Torchlight illuminated their faces as the moon passed behind a cloud, shrouding the land in darkness. 

“HE’S TOO STRONG, YOUR MAJESTY!” Mack’s voice boomed over the battle. “WE CAN’T HOLD HIM!” 

Cruel, twisted laughter echoed through the air as clearly as if the rest of the world had gone silent. “You can’t run from me, Coulson.” The wind picked up to a deafening roar as Maveth directed his attention just outside the courtyard. With screams and the sound of clinking metal and clashing wood Fitz watched as the entirety of the blacksmith’s forge was sucked up into Maveth’s swirling vortex. 

Fitz had heard of Maveth taking entire buildings, but he had never seen it for himself. All Fitz could do was stare, frozen, as the forge disappeared from the earth. Fitz had spent afternoons there, picking through old, bent metal as the swordsmith glared at him from the other side of the structure. But in one moment it was gone. 

Fitz shuddered as the wind died down and the sounds of the battle again echoed through the night air. Maveth’s men had broken through the courtyard in front of Maveth. There were fewer of Maveth’s men than there were the King’s, but Fitz could see that the group of cavalrymen in the courtyard were only a very small number of the force that the King had. Either the rest of them had been dispersed by Maveth or… Fitz didn’t want to think about that. Fitz couldn’t make out faces in the pandemonium, but he hoped that Lance and Lincoln had made it too or at least that they were somewhere safe; even from Fitz’s position far on the outskirts of the fighting, he could tell that the cavalry was struggling. Maveth was helping his men push the King and the others closer and closer to the palace, and the assistance of the sorcerer was clearly taking its toll on the cavalrymen. 

The last time Fitz had seen Maveth had been on a night much like this when Fitz had brought the sorcerer back, along with a whole group of henchmen. Will might have even been one of the men that stepped out of the monolith in the middle of the forest. 

Fitz took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. Fitz had let this more powerful Maveth into the kingdom, so it was Fitz’s responsibility to destroy him. Maveth had cursed Fitz because Fitz was supposed to, someday, cause Maveth’s downfall. Perhaps Fitz still could be the threat that Maveth had so feared, even without his family or his friends… or his Jemma. 

“Where’s that stupid monolith?” Fitz muttered under his breath. Fitz could try to kill Maveth all he wanted by himself, but without the monolith, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. 

But then, through the noise, Fitz’s attention was caught by a creaking in front of the palace, close to the rampart on the far side of the entryway. By the torchlight he could see a group of four armored guards pulling a cart that carried a tall object shrouded by a sheet of canvas: the monolith. It _had_ to be. 

“What the-” Fitz stopped as he noticed the guards pulling the cart were shorter than the fighting cavalrymen. The Cavalry. Of course! May and the others knew all about the monolith and how to kill Maveth since they had all found the scroll together. And they had Bobbi cursed inside the palace, so of course they would be more prepared to take down the evil sorcerer than anyone else. 

Fitz knew what he had to do. 

He looked around for a moment and then raced into the action, making a beeline for one of the archers on the edge of the battle who had fallen off his horse. 

“GIVE ME YOUR ARROWS!” Fitz shouted at the man through the noise.

“WHAT?” The archer looked back at Fitz as though he was insane.

Fitz decided to ignore proper decorum, and he grabbed the man’s bow and a fistful of arrows from the archer’s quiver before reaching for the man’s waterproof pouch that Fitz and Jemma had designed for the archers so long ago to hold their solution that caused loss of consciousness. The solution was their best hope for defeating Maveth; really it was their only hope. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” the archer yelled, yanking his bag away from Fitz.

Fitz clenched his fists. He really didn’t have time for this. “I NEED THAT TO DEFEAT MAVETH. DO YOU WANT TO LIVE OR NOT?” 

The archer stared at him for a moment, but something in Fitz’s eyes must have made the archer believe him because a moment later the other man handed Fitz his pouch and his now almost empty quiver.

Fitz nodded his thanks and ran toward the palace, the archer following for a moment before ducking behind some bushes, clearly afraid of being in the battle without his horse or any weaponry.

Fitz climbed the stairs toward the palace entrance and almost collided with Daisy who was leading Dame Isobel, Lady Mackenzie, Bobbi, and Jemma.

“Fitz, what’s going on?” Daisy demanded, her words fearful. 

Fitz shook his head and kept moving passed her, headed for the staircase that led up to the ramparts. From there he would be perhaps even higher than Maveth and could possibly have a clear shot at the sorcerer. 

“FITZ!” 

Fitz stopped for the briefest moment to turn back around. 

It was Jemma. Of course. 

Fitz kept moving despite Jemma’s footsteps following him up the staircase. 

“What are you doing, Fitz?” she called after him. 

Fitz didn’t answer as he reached the top and looked over the wall. He could see the whole battle down below him. Of course it wasn’t really big enough to be a battle, by numbers alone it was little more than a skirmish, but the addition of an evil sorcerer who could literally pull buildings off the ground made it seem much larger than it was. Fitz could see his father trying to lead his cavalry right in the middle of the courtyard. Mack was fighting a few cloaked and masked men on the far side of the courtyard, Lance was nearby, and Lincoln was carrying a torch, clearly trying to stay out of trouble and protect a few younger squires off to the left of Mack and Lance. 

Fitz scanned the battle for Will and Grant and quickly spotted the shiny, dark hair of the younger king behind a mask fighting for Maveth in the torchlight. If Grant was there, it was more than likely that Will was there too.

“What’s going on, Fitz?” Jemma demanded as she reached him, leaning over the rail beside him, her eyes wide at the sight of the fight below them. 

“I’m stopping Maveth,” he said tonelessly, his eyes not leaving the battlefield below them. “And your fiancé is doing just the opposite.” Without another word, he pointed down to the battle below them where Sir John had just cut the mask off of one of Maveth’s men. It was Will. 

“WILL?” Jemma screamed down at her fiancé, her surprise echoing the surprise of her father, the older man staring, frozen, at the man who was supposed to be his future son-in-law. 

“JEMMA, MY LOVE!” Will called up to her, riding away from Sir John and the rest of the fighting. “MAVETH CAN GIVE US ANYTHING WE WANT! WE’LL TAKE THE THRONE, AND I’LL BE ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL RULERS IN THE LAND WITH YOU AT MY SIDE! I LOVE YOU, JEMMA. COME BE WITH ME!” 

“Jemma. Please.” Fitz’s words were quiet and pleading as he pulled out an arrow from the quiver and dipped it in their solution. Jemma didn’t have to be with him, but she certainly couldn’t be with Will, regardless of whether or not the other man loved her. 

Jemma stared at Fitz and then looked down at Will before turning back to Fitz once more, her face barely visible in the darkness. 

She took one step towards him. “Fitz?” 

The moon peeked out from behind a cloud shining a pale light down onto the rampart and across the courtyard. 

Jemma stepped toward him, her eyes like nothing Fitz had seen in a long time. Her mouth opened slightly as a smile spread across her face. “Bow and arrow, please,” she said, her words confident but restrained as she held out her hand.

Fitz stared at her, bewildered. “What?”

“I’m a better shot than you, remember?” Jemma said, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. 

Fitz remembered days of archery practice in the fields behind the palace. He remembered being distracted by Jemma’s brilliant smile as he fell more and more in love with her. Of course he remembered everything… But Jemma… Jemma had forgotten… 

“Jemma?” Fitz said breathlessly, tears welling up in his eyes as he held out the bow and arrows to the love of his life. 

Jemma took them from him, squeezing his hand lightly as she did so. “Yeah,” she said, her voice as shaky as Fitz’s, “it’s me.” 

“WHAT?” 

A voice boomed across the sky, silencing the fighting down below them, men dismounting and the forces separating from each other in the face of the wrath of the evil sorcerer. 

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HATE HIM?” Maveth screeched. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FORGET HIM AND DESPISE HIM UNTIL THE PAIN ATE HIM ALIVE! HOW DARE YOU DEFY MY CURSE? HOW DARE YOU DEFY _ME_?” 

Maveth flew toward them, the air below him swirling faster and faster in a vortex picking up rocks and dirt from the ground. “YOU WILL DIE NOW JEMMA SIMMONS, AND AFTER YOU WATCH HER DIE, I WILL KILL YOU TOO, PRINCE LEOPOLD. NO ONE MAY DEFY MY CURSES!” 

“A curse is no match for true love, Maveth!” Fitz shouted over the wind, using the last words Dame Isobel had spoken to him before he, Jemma, and Bobbi had departed to track down information on Maveth and the monolith. 

He saw Jemma grin beside him as she quickly pulled back the bow and fired the solution-soaked arrow into the night air. 

At that very moment, the moon emerged fully from behind the cloud, shining down directly onto the courtyard below, and specifically onto the tall, dark monolith that the Cavalry had unloaded onto the ground and uncovered just below where Maveth now hovered. 

Jemma’s arrow entered just beneath Maveth’s hood, right where a face should have been, if Maveth had had a face. 

Almost instantly the wind died down, and the swirling stopped, and Maveth’s now unconscious body fell through the air just as the monolith liquefied, swallowing Maveth. 

As soon as the sorcerer’s body fell back through the liquefied rock, Maveth’s men, undoubtedly the ones who had been pulled through to the forest originally, began to be pulled after their leader. 

Will looked up at Jemma pleadingly, but she just stared down at him, her expression harsh as she pulled off her engagement ring and threw it into the monolith as Will was sucked through the portal himself. 

There was a shout as someone ran down the palace steps into the small cluster of Maveth’s remaining men.

Fitz quickly realized it was Daisy who had grabbed her brother and ripped off his mask. 

“HOW COULD YOU, GRANT?” she screamed. “YOU WERE MY BROTHER! THEY’RE OUR FRIENDS! What would our parents say if they saw you now?” Daisy stared at Grant as though she had never seen him before. 

Grant yanked his wrist away from his sister. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” he yelled back at Daisy. “Our parents were fools! They wanted _peace_ when peace would make them give up so much! Maveth promised me everything; all I had to do was hand over Fitz. I could have ruled the world! I _would_ have ruled the world!” Grant tried to get around Daisy, but she blocked his path. “Get away from me!” He slapped his sister across the face and pushed her to the ground. 

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” The King’s words were even, but the threat behind them was obvious. He twisted Grant’s arm back and pulled him toward the liquefied stone. “You don’t deserve a kingdom.” And, with that, he pushed Grant into the portal just as the monolith solidified once more. 

The courtyard sat in silence for a moment as though the entire world was adjusting to what had happened. Fitz saw matching looks of confusion on everyone’s faces as they looked around. It was as if they had all just remembered something long forgotten. 

The King was the first one to turn his eyes toward the ramparts. “MY SON! LEO! HOW COULD I FORGET MY SON?” 

“FITZ!” Shouts from his friends down in the courtyard below blended with the cheers from the other cavalrymen he barely knew. 

The small handful of Maveth’s men that were left tried to sneak into the shadows, but they were quickly caught by the King’s men. 

May and the other members of the Cavalry covertly covered the monolith and pushed it back onto their cart. The scroll they had found said that as soon as Maveth was back through the portal it wouldn’t open again, but Fitz could see why they wouldn’t want to take any chances. 

Satisfied that everything was okay, Fitz finally turned his attention back to the woman standing next to him.

“You remembered,” he said quietly, ignoring the yells from down below them. “You remembered me before you killed Maveth.” He stared at Jemma, almost in awe of her, not quite allowing himself to believe that this was real. 

Jemma shook her head slowly in disbelief before she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. “Fitz,” she said, her breathing ragged. “Oh my God, Fitz.” 

“Jemma,” Fitz breathed, pressing a kiss into her hair. She was solid in his arms. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. She was real. _This_ was real. 

Jemma moved her head back, tears in her eyes, a brilliant smile across her face, and she finally leaned in and pressed her lips to his. 

The first time Fitz had kissed Jemma, they had only had one blissful, perfect moment before his life fell apart, but this time there was nothing to stop them: no curse, no Maveth, just him and Jemma, finally together. Fitz let himself get lost in the feeling of Jemma’s lips working against his as he pulled her closer to him, his fingers trailing through her hair as hers worked through his slightly-too-long curls. 

“We broke the curse, Jemma,” Fitz said as they broke apart, his words delivered with almost a reverence as he rested his forehead against Jemma’s. “We broke the curse.” 

Jemma smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sorry for forgetting about you,” she said softly. “And I was so _mean_ to you. Oh, I’m so sorry, Fitz.” 

“Jemma,” Fitz said, his words filled with adoration as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, “love, you were cursed just as much as I was, and by all rights you shouldn’t have even remembered me at all, but you did. You broke the curse without even killing Maveth.” Fitz cradled her face in his hands. “I love you so much, Jemma, and I’m just so grateful to have you back.” 

Jemma wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, sniffling into his shoulder. “I love you, Fitz. I love you more than anything in the world. And I promise I will never forget you ever again.” 

Fitz laughed as he lifted her head and wiped away her tears, brushing his hand along her cheek as she leaned into his touch. 

Jemma’s smile was wider than he had ever seen as they stood there in the moonlight, and Fitz knew that he had certainly never been happier than he was at this moment.

He leaned in to kiss her again, savoring the fact that he actually could kiss Jemma now without worrying that she was going to forget him.

“You know,” he said leisurely when they broke apart, “I do really enjoy being able to kiss you whenever I like. I wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of our lives.”

Jemma’s smile grew even wider as she pressed a quick kiss to Fitz’s lips. “I’m rather inclined to agree with you.” 

“Then marry me, Jemma,” Fitz said before he even realized what he was saying. “I mean, will you-” Fitz stopped. This was such a major decision, and he and Jemma had only really been together for a few weeks before everyone had forgotten him, but this was _Jemma_ ; Fitz had never been so sure of anything in his entire life. “Jemma, will you marry me?” 

Jemma’s mouth fell open at Fitz’s words, but even in the dim light Fitz could see the utter joy in her eyes. “Yes, Fitz. Of course, yes.” She jumped into his arms, and Fitz spun her around, the moon and stars shining down on them as cheers came from the staircase. 

The pair stopped spinning and turned in time to be quickly engulfed by a large group of people – Mack and Lady Mackenzie grinning madly at their niece and soon to be nephew-in-law, Lance and Bobbi offering congratulations on the engagement and (from Lance) casual comments that he and Bobbi had trusted Fitz first after everyone had forgotten him so they should get credit for that, Daisy jumping around excitedly talking about a double wedding as Lincoln watched her adoringly, Dame Isobel smiling knowingly at them since she had been right about true love and Maveth all along, and there, at the back of the group, the King supporting the Queen who looked a little pale (which could have just been the moonlight) but otherwise seemed to be entirely healthy and back to normal. 

Fitz pressed a kiss to Jemma’s temple as he hugged her to his side, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Love you,” Jemma said into his ear, her voice barely a whisper, just before his friends and family pulled Fitz away from her to clap him on the back and welcome him back to their world.

And as he hugged his parents, watching his fiancée’s eyes shining brilliantly from over his mother’s shoulder, Fitz couldn’t help but think that everything was, somehow, finally, perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue should be up by this weekend! 
> 
> Comments are so so appreciated. Message me on tumblr: parksanddownton603


	19. Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. It's been more than six months, but I've absolutely loved every moment I've spent working on this fic. It all started with those little words "we're cursed" back in November, and I honestly can't believe how far this has gone. It's been really really great.
> 
> To those lovely people who have left comments on this story, I honestly can't thank you enough. You all are so kind and wonderful, and the encouragement and enthusiasm that I've gotten from you guys has been amazing. You've genuinely made this story better, and I'm so incredibly grateful for each and every one of you.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please enjoy.

A year to the day that Maveth and his men chased the cavalry back to the palace, the kingdom of King Coulson found itself back in front of the palace for a much happier occasion: the wedding of Prince Leopold Fitz Coulson and his best friend Lady Jemma Simmons. 

It had been a whirlwind of a year for everyone. The queen had instantly recovered from her mysterious illness when Jemma, Fitz, and the Cavalry trapped Maveth in the monolith. After remembering Fitz, the king had run through the palace and found his wife out of bed and smiling for the first time in months. 

Mack had been reunited with Lady Mackenzie and Lance with Bobbi, and gone were the days of campaigns of indeterminate length off into the far reaches of the kingdom. A significant amount of damage had been inflicted on a few villages, so the first priority after defeating Maveth was helping them rebuild. The King sent the cavalrymen out in smaller groups for only a week or two at a time, making sure that no man was away from his loved ones for too long. 

The majority of the cavalry who had been separated from the King’s group as Maveth chased them through the countryside returned the following day, having gotten lost and mixed in with Grant’s men during the confusion. A cheer went up among them as they discovered that Maveth was gone and that he would never return. 

Fitz wanted May and Ladies Weaver, Hill, and Romanoff to be commended for their bravery and their invaluable help in defeating Maveth with the monolith, but May insisted that they had no desire to draw attention to themselves.

“We work best in the shadows,” May had said as her fellow soldiers nodded along. 

Fitz and the King respected their wishes, but that didn’t stop Fitz from spreading a rumor throughout the cavalry that Maveth had only been defeated because of the Cavalry, that elite group led by the woman who had saved the kingdom nearly seventeen years ago. The lore around May grew, and Fitz knew by small smiles that this was perfectly acceptable to May. 

Daisy had been shocked by her brother’s betrayal, but all their friends were there to help her through it. The excitement of Fitz and Jemma reuniting and promptly getting engaged were enough to distract her for a few days, but as soon as reality began to sink in, Lincoln was waiting to take her hand so they could deal with the consequences together. 

With Grant’s death, Daisy was now Queen of her kingdom, and Fitz could think of nothing more fitting. She was kind and fair, caring deeply for the needs of her people, and strong and resolute, protecting her kingdom from any threats inside or outside. From the day Fitz had met her, Daisy had given him the impression that she would make an amazing ruler, and Fitz’s feeling quickly proved correct. Daisy became one of the most well loved queens in her kingdom’s history, and she and King Coulson were able to preserve peace all across the land. 

Mack, Lady Mackenzie, and Lincoln accompanied Daisy back to her palace a week after Maveth was defeated to help her settle in and figure out her place as queen. When Mack and Lady Mackenzie returned a month later without Mack’s squire, they brought with them an invitation to a wedding: Daisy and Lincoln were to be married in the summer, after Daisy’s sixteenth birthday, as soon as proper preparations could be made. 

Daisy had wanted a double wedding with Fitz and Jemma, but Daisy was queen now, and she and Lincoln had been engaged for far too long to wait any more time. And so, exactly two years to the day that Daisy and Lincoln had reunited at the banquet, Daisy and Lincoln were married at her palace, surrounded by all their friends and Daisy’s entire kingdom. 

There was some gossip questioning Queen Daisy’s judgment in marrying a common squire, but Daisy didn’t pay even the slightest bit of attention. She and Lincoln were destined to be together, and it wasn’t long before the entire kingdom realized how blissfully in love the Queen and her fiancé and then husband were. Their story was embellished more and more – their first meeting, their courtship, their reunion – their forbidden love becoming more legend than reality. Children in Daisy’s kingdom for decades and even centuries were told stories of their great and mighty Queen who married a humble squire for love and was the happiest woman in all the land. 

As for Fitz, the weeks after the curse was lifted were filled with laughter with his friends at how well Fitz had pretended not to know them, gratitude that Fitz had come back to the palace and stayed even when he had lost everything, and arguments over whether or not anyone had actually remembered Fitz at all before the curse was lifted (Fitz knew no one had except Jemma at the last moment and perhaps Dame Isobel who said nothing but had been eerily able to understand Fitz that afternoon in the lab after Jemma and Will had gotten engaged). 

Best of all had been Fitz’s reunion with his parents. 

“I can’t believe we forgot you, Leo,” the King had said up on the ramparts, hugging his son tightly.

“It’s not your fault,” Fitz had brushed it off easily. “You let me stay here; you trusted me.” 

“That’s just who you are, Leo,” the Queen had said, running her hand through Fitz’s hair, her eyes full of tears. “You, my son, are genuine, trustworthy, and resilient. We would be nothing without you, Leo. You saved me.” 

“I’m so proud of you, son” his father said, squeezing Fitz’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Father,” Fitz said, standing up straighter and smiling up at his parents. 

The King beamed at him for a moment before raising his eyebrows. “So, all this time it’s been Jemma?” 

Fitz looked down sheepishly. “Who else could it have been?” 

The King laughed. “Who else indeed. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Your mother tells me it’s been going on for quite some time, right under my nose.” 

“I’m sorry, I-” 

But Fitz’s apology was interrupted by more laughter from his father. “Oh, Fitz, Jemma is certainly the only girl in the world for you, and I feel quite the fool for never noticing. I’m so glad for both of you, and I give you both all of my blessings.” 

Fitz had turned to Jemma as his father spoke and found his fiancée listening intently, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. Fitz had taken her hand and pulled her back toward him where both of his parents embraced her and welcomed her to the family. 

“As though you weren’t part of it already,” the Queen said, beaming, as she pressed a kiss to Jemma’s forehead.

Fitz hugged Jemma to his side. “I told you my father would be pleased,” he whispered, grinning smugly. 

Jemma slapped playfully at his arm and kissed his cheek. 

A few days after Fitz asked Jemma to marry him on the ramparts, the pair were back working together in the lab by themselves. They really should have been accompanied by a chaperone, but all convention had long been thrown out the window. Jemma was so focused on the experiment she working on, she didn’t notice that Fitz moved away from her, but when she finally turned to ask a question, she found Fitz kneeling down, staring up at her holding the ring that his grandfather had given his grandmother. Jemma called him silly and daft for proposing twice but she said yes with the widest of smiles on her face before throwing her arms around him and kissing him deeply. 

From time to time, Fitz would catch Jemma thinking about Will and the months she and Fitz were apart. Fitz assured her over and over that he didn’t blame her for anything she had said or done. Instead, he told her about how important she had been for those months, how she had given him hope when he had none with a smile or a certain look in her eyes that told Fitz that maybe his Jemma could come back to him. It was difficult, but those horrible months gradually became distant memories, unimportant in comparison to the joy that followed them. 

Weeks passed and then months. Buildings were repaired, families healed, the forge was rebuilt. Little by little, things in the kingdom were returning to normal. In August, Fitz turned seventeen, and Jemma followed twenty-three days later. Their friends threw them a joint birthday and engagement party, a small ball for just their friends and families. Fitz was able to dance the whole night with Jemma, and he confessed to her afterwards that he had grown to rather like balls after all. 

The official engagement announcement prompted a flurry of questions about the wedding, but Fitz and Jemma had decided that they wanted to wait until spring and hold the ceremony outdoors, which had the additional benefit of giving their parents, and the entire kingdom, time to prepare for the big day. The kingdom, of course, included the group of girls around Fitz and Jemma’s age who had attended Daisy’s birthday ball and were astounded that Fitz would choose someone as “unaccomplished” as Jemma to be his wife, but the majority of the kingdom found Jemma just as perfect and lovely as Fitz did, and anyone who even spent a few moments with the pair of them knew that they were destined to be together. It was true love, after all. 

The ceremony was beautiful. Jemma, in a flowing gown with a train fit for a future queen, clutching a bouquet of wildflowers from the field behind the palace, was escorted down the aisle by a beaming Sir John and was given away to a Fitz who couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

And as they kissed for the first time as man and wife, a cheer came up from the crowd. Fitz and Jemma looked out at all the important people in their lives – their parents, Mack and Lady Mackenzie, Bobbi and Lance, Daisy and Lincoln, Dame Isobel – all of them smiling up at Fitz and Jemma, and they couldn’t help but smile too. It had been a long road, but they both knew it was more than worth it. 

“I love you so much, Jemma,” Fitz said later as the pair stood alone on the ramparts overlooking the crowd, the sun setting in the distance, Fitz’s arm around his wife. 

“I love you too, Fitz,” Jemma replied, sighing contentedly. “It’s odd to think this all began with a curse.” 

Fitz raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’d say it began with a curse exactly,” he said pensively. “We were destined to be together, curse or no curse. It’s true love, Jemma.” 

Jemma laughed and shook her head, pressing a kiss to Fitz’s jawline. “You make it sound as though we’re in some sort of fairytale.” 

Fitz smiled down at her. “I don’t know. This certainly feels like a happily ever after.” 

And as Jemma tilted her head up to capture his lips with hers, Fitz knew that it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are incredibly appreciated, and feel free to message me on tumblr - parksanddownton603.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. You guys are the best <3


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